Crazy: Continued
by Capntia
Summary: The transformation from Harleen to Harley inspired by and based on the Suicide Squad movie, DC Comics, BTAS and the Arkham video games.
1. Rebirth

_A/N:_

 _Rebirth._

 _Tia! Why did you delete the chapters and why are you starting again?!_

 _Because, Reader, I follow my instincts. Finally, the extended cut of SS is out. Being able to see a little more of the Joker has gotten more of my creative juices flowing. I started getting ideas for ways to improve the story and stuff I wanted to add, but it was a bit too late in the story for that (constant flashbacks get old.) The cleanest, easiest way to solve this problem is to start again. A bit will be the same. What IS the same has been revised and altered and you will notice new content soon where none would have existed before._

I sat at a cheap, faux-wood desk in my office hunched over a newspaper. The article I stared at was one I knew well, as one might assume from the worn paper. I straightened the dark rimmed glasses on the bridge of my nose and read the passage under my finger for what felt like the hundredth time.

ANOTHER GRUESOME MURDER AT ARKHAM ASYLUM, the bolded letters nearly screamed at me. Below was a picture of Joan Leland, a colleague of mine. Well, make that _former_ colleague. I couldn't focus on a single printed word. I was in shock, though I wasn't quite sure why. Looking at it from a psychiatric perspective it was totally normal. The Joker had killed _another_ of his psychiatrists, painted the walls maroon with her blood and a series of HAs. Thankfully I didn't see it.

The brunettes' eyes shined brightly in the headlining photo and her smile was one of content, of happiness. Joan had a way of making you spill your guts, even if you didn't want to. An excellent psychiatrist indeed. Too good for her own good, apparently. Next to her photo was a staple picture for the Joker. It was a mugshot, one of many. The mans' features were striking due to the gritty black and white of the photo. His tattoos and grill were displayed proudly though weren't too distinguishable in the fuzzy print. That was a constant theme in his mugshots: he was proud of what he had done, no matter what it was and it always showed in that unsettling grin he was infamous for.

 _Another one bites the dust_ , I sighed. They had to be doing something wrong... Or right. But surely one man could not be so difficult to diagnose, human brains aren't rocket science.

I brushed a couple of loose blonde tendrils behind my ear as my thoughts raced. This meant he was without a doctor. Again. Maybe now I could take Joan's place. Being here for over two years and rehabilitating 23 (24?) patients had to count for something. It's not as if I was _glad_ she was dead, not at all. Joan was one of the few people I actually liked here. Funny how I'd prefer to chat with my patients than half of these jerks on the payroll. They were all so snotty. Joan wasn't. However... I'm not much of a crier. Never have been. I was sad, of course, but no tears would fall from me. I think I even tried to cry. Probably because I thought I should. But I didn't budge.

Returning the paper to the top drawer I wiggled my mouse to awaken the computer. Quick email to Dr. Arkham. A simple 'when you have time I'd like to talk to you' sort of thing written boringly, like a professional. The drab colors of this place were enough to put anyone down in the dumps, he should seriously think about redecorating.

Two sharp raps to the door announced Frank, one of the regular guards, with Emily Trasio one of my newest cases. Butchered her family with an axe and tried to sew them back together. Manic depressive with voices to accompany her every thought. The poor thing was only 14, but extremely polite. She fascinated me indeed. "Come on in, Frank!" I called to the door.

In stepped Frank, Emily in tow. He was a tall man with tan skin, built like a machine. Bright green eyes and dull copper hair colored him. "Morning, Harleen." He said cheerfully, leading Emily to the couch. He wasn't aggressive in his actions, rarely was, but his hand still was prepared to use his gun if need be. Always alert.

"Morning Frank." I smiled, rising and taking a seat across from Emily in a sturdy, dark brown chair. Opening her file I got my pen ready. "And I've told you, call me Harley. Everyone does." The name Harleen aggravated me. It was dated and sort of weird.

"You look beautiful, as ever." He flirted, hovering longer than necessary in the room. Looking up to him I gave him another polite smile.

"See you in an hour." I said pointedly. There was nothing I wanted to do more than talk to my patient. Now was not the time for flirting, and Frank knew it. Sometimes the man just irritated me.

"Er, right. See ya." Frank said, taking the hint I so obviously dropped. His tone was a slight mix of anger and disappointment, but he stayed polite and professional. When he exited, I turned back to smile genuinely at Emily.

"Good morning Emily, how are you?" I asked.

Sitting with proper posture, the girl smiled back. "Just fine, thanks. I get to go outside today." She said gleefully, sing songing her voice. "How about yourself, Dr. Quinzel?"

I looked over the young girl. Her dark, slightly tangled hair hung down her back. Her face was plain, and long lashes made her brown eyes appear almost black. The hideous orange ARKHAM jumpsuit certainly wasn't doing her any favors, although it made her olive skin tone pop a bit. "I'm doing well, thank you. You look well rested, does this mean the Trazod has been working?" I asked, curious of her answer. Last time dark circles had been the prominent focus of her face.

"I've gotten a lot of sleep since our last visit. The voices aren't yelling as much, I can hear my own thoughts a bit more." The young girl moved to lay across the couch instead of sitting, draping her arm behind her head. Whatever made her comfortable enough to spill her guts I was on board with. I was hungry for knowledge. Hungry for insight into her brain. "I hate the Blaanzorfine, take me off of that immediately." She said seriously. "It makes me feel like I'm suffocating." I made a note to find a new prescription that would better fit her.

"Noted." I replied. Glancing through my notes from last time I looked back up to her and removed my glasses, setting them in my lap. I hated wearing them if I didn't need to. "So last time we talked about what led up to the 'Warp'." The 'Warp' is how Emily referred to for the murders. "Today, I want to talk about the incident itself."

Emily's face soured. "That's not something I want to talk about right now." She refused.

"It's a part of healing," I said softly yet firmly. Pushing. "You have to make yourself uncomfortable to heal. To push yourself. If you never confront it, it will never go away." This seemed to make Emily roll her eyes. It didn't surprise me. I received a lot of different reactions and had seen them all a hundred times. "Think of your brain as a refrigerator. If you don't clean out the bad food, everything else in the fridge will spoil. This incident, these feelings have been in the 'fridge' for way too long. That's why you're at Arkham, it's throwing everything else out of whack." I reminded her. "Help me help you."

We sat in silence, or at least I did. Emily was clearly having a silent conversation. She would silently mouth words. Pause. Respond with varying slight shakes of her head and then mouth words again. A whimper escaped her lips. Patiently I waited.

"They were so annoying. All four of them. But I would never hurt them. I think all families think each other are annoying." She paused and I gave her a nod to continue. She wasn't wrong. "My mom made me really mad. She didn't believe me about the people in my head. I think I scared her." She admitted. "She had a special way of making people feel like shit. Sorry, like garbage." Emily corrected herself.

"Please, speak freely."

"We were fighting. Same old thing. My dad took her side. As always. Tommy was in his room. The baby wouldn't stop _screaming_. Mom and Dad wouldn't stop _yelling_. Their voices were so forceful and so... _persistent_ I couldn't even speak to defend myself. And it just kept coming, like an angry avalanche. Spot had pissed on the floor and I had the biggest headache. They wouldn't stop, _the noise wouldn't stop_." Her voice started to rise a bit hysterically. Taking several deep breaths she calmed herself like I taught her. "He reminded me about the axe in the shed. He told me I could just scare them into being quiet, I didn't actually have to _hurt_ them." It was clear the girl wasn't referring to her father, but the entity in her brain.

"It sounded good to me. But when I saw their faces, it was finally silent. Almost all at once. Quiet. The epitome of bliss. They were terrified. Of me. The silence was beautiful. Even _he_ was quiet. I didn't want it to end. Then baby started to screech again and my mom tried to run and call the cops. After that... It was silent forever." Emily sat up and grinned despite new tears trickling down her cheeks. "I slept like the dead. When I woke up the next day I regretted it. In all honesty, when it happened... It sort of felt like a movie. Like I wasn't even in control of body or something. Hazy. A time warp of sorts, like I was watching it through a screen. I tried to save them. But I'm not smart. I'm not a doctor like you." Her grin was strained and tight, it looked like it hurt her cheeks and I grew a bit uncomfortable. "I lived with them for about a two weeks before they kept falling apart, despite the new stitching. I played house with live size dolls. The baby was the hardest to keep together. Someone smelled them and called the cops. That's the whole story. Are you happy now, Dr. Quinzel?" She asked with slight resentment, though who it was directed at was unclear.

I was writing the key parts from the story, highlighting the parts I found most interesting. So she had been hearing the voices before the deaths. Hmm. I nodded. "Is there anything you want to reflect on or add?"

"Not today," she grimaced. The retelling had clearly taken effect on her mood. Good. Even just talking about it would help.

"Okay. We have 20 minutes left, but we can cut it short. Enjoy going outside." I smiled at her, and rapped on the door, signaling Frank. He responded quickly. Truthfully I wanted to push her a bit more, but if you push too hard they crack. And that's a major setback in rehabilitation. In my profession the game is to successfully rehabilitate as many as you can.

"Done already?" He asked. With an affirmative nod from me he led her back to her room without any other comments, for which I was grateful. Huffing as I sat I looked over what I had written. Hearing the story from the woman who did it and seeing the effect it had on her... Unsettled me. Gave me goosebumps. Hooked my interest. Especially how Emily had grinned as she cried. Normally I didn't get shaken by patients, but Emily managed to. Patients like her made me love my job.

My email light blinked and was accompanied by a light _ping_. Dr. Arkham was free to talk. Perfect. I rolled my head around my shoulders to release the tension that had accumulated and locked my office behind me.

The only noteable sound as I made my way to his office was the soft click of my shoes. They were sensible and comfortable, much like my outfit. Who was I trying to impress, especially here? The asylum was relatively large and gothic in design. Why? I don't know. We held 250 different patients and staffed 19- oops, 18- doctors with 20 guards who rotated shifts.

"Dr. Arkham." I poked my head into his office and tapped the doorframe.

"Harley, hello dear, have a seat." He turned away from his computer and gestured to the plush seat for visitors. I obliged and crossed one leg over the other, folding my hands together. "You wanted to talk? What about?" The elder man asked curiously.

It took me a moment to figure out how to properly phrase what I wanted to say. The subject was delicate. "With Joan's passing I realize her patients will need to be fitted with new psychiatrists promptly." I said slowly, gauging his reaction.

"Go on..." His brow furrowed. I could tell he had a loose idea of the direction of this particular conversation.

"I'll be frank. I'd like the to treat the Joker." I said directly. Jeremiah hated beating around the bush.

"Why?" He asked in confusion. "Most doctors shy away from such extreme cases. I'm sure you're well aware of the risks associated."

"Yes sir, I am. I've been doing this for a while now, and I love my job. However, I haven't quite felt any real challenge in my work lately."

"Harley, I understand, but... Are you sure? I'd rather not put you at risk, but I'll be honest, no one else wants to do it. There's a reason for that." Dr. Arkham was full of concern. "I considered shipping him to another asylum, I'm not sure how much more bad publicity and staff reduction this place can handle before Bruce Wayne has it shut down."

"I have a thing for extreme personalities. You can't deny there's an element of glamour to these 'super criminals'. My plans are to write a book. A book that will forever contribute to understanding of psychology by explaining the man no one can figure out. Give me a chance, Doctor. If I suspect the risk is too high I'll back out." It was bullshit. I wasn't a quitter, but I hoped to further sway him.

With a deep sigh, Jeremiah nodded. "Okay. He will be in solitary confinement until Wednesday. I'll give you a shot, Harley, just please be careful. And if your book becomes a hit, give me a shoutout okay?" He chuckled uneasily, still evidently hesitant considering what happened to Joan.

I grinned. Success. My mom used to say 'Harley, honey, you will never receive anything in this world unless you ask. The worst they can say is no' and the advice has never failed me. Of course I've been told no... But not very often. "Thank you. And don't worry, you'll be the first I mention in the acknowledgments." I rose, smiling breezily at the old man. I couldn't shake my excited grin and flutter in my belly. I would be treating the Joker in less than a week.

The next few days had passed uneventfully and now it was time. I walked to the speacialty room for the higher risk patients in a hurry, almost falling twice from rushing.

Crystal blue eyes bored into mine. The Joker was actually sitting across from me! But I resisted the urge to yawn. Not because he was boring, not at all, but because I had been too excited to sleep much the night before.

The man had not spoken a single word since sitting on the couch across from me. He simply stared. His pale white skin, green eyes and unnaturally red lips were striking in person and I focused on the way he sat. Sloppily. Lazily. Almost as if he were stoned but I knew better. Jeremiah had probably given him some sort of relaxer or tranquilizer before our first meeting as a precaution.

The thought annoyed me, though I didn't let it show. I wanted him clear headed. Despite his body language the intensity in his eyes sent a sort of electric charge through the air that I didn't fail to notice. "I see you have more than a few tattoos, Mister Joker. What might they signify?" I tried again. The question fell on deaf ears, he didn't react in the slightest to the fact that I was speaking yet he still stared at me. So far, a very unproductive 20 minutes. But I'm patient. I could play this game.

Dark circles made his light eyes pop and it appeared he was recovering from a multi busted lip and heavy bruises that were now a few days old. A sallow yellow color that was obvious against his chalky parlor. A tiny fleeting smile spread across my cheeks. I had an idea. "Let's talk about Batman."

Success. The Clown Prince of Crime clenched his fists and started to laugh, releasing his head back. The sound was deranged, loud, a little frightening and lasted _much_ longer than it should have. I gripped my pen a bit tighter in case I needed it as a weapon. I'd aim for the jugular. If it came down to him or I I'd try my damnedest to make it him. "You wanna talk about 'ole _Batsy_ , eh?" He asked in a low, gravelly voice, raising a brow over wide eyes. "My greatest adversary, my biggest challenge! _The reason I'm in this lovely place!"_ He would fluctuate his words in strange ways that didn't make sense to me.

I nodded. "Yes. Batman. Tell me about your relationship with him."

Very slowly, the Joker rolled his head around his shoulders. They cracked sickeningly. "Well, shucks, Doc, Bats and I go way back." His tone darkened. "To the beginning. To my birth. To the very creation of the creature here before you." He smiled hugely in amusement, displaying his grill and clenching his bound fist. Even his posture improved a bit. "The 'yin' to my 'yang' you might say." _Highly excitable over Batman,_ I wrote in my notes.

"Your birth?" I questioned. I doubted he meant his literal birth. "The way you talk about him..." I paused to find the words I wanted. Almost like he was in love with him. Wouldn't that be something for the book!

"Go on..." He said curiously, leaning forward eagerly.

"It almost seems as though you're infatuated with him." I said matter of factly. Almost immediately I regretted it. The Jokers face turned to one of disgust and anger.

"That's not funny." He said as if he didn't understand the joke. "I ain't no fucking fag, _Doc-tor_." He sneered, rising from his seat. "I should prove it. Smash that pretty little face into your desk over. And over. Until you're gushing blood. Bound you so tightly you can't move a single muscle, like this facility takes great joy in doing to us, then fuck you until can't feel _anything_ ever again." Now he was standing in front of me. His words were spoken with great charisma. Like he was flirting. Very smooth. But I knew the threat was real.

"Please return to your seat so we can finish our conversation." I said calmly, looking up to him. I could see the slight strain of the muscles in his neck. The words put an anxiety in my core because I believed him. Honestly, that sounded like his version of letting someone off _easy_.

In a strange way he was handsome. But the crazy was too prominent, it took him from a 9 to a 4. I think he saw a little sliver of fear and how I gripped the pen but I can't be sure. If he did he chose not to acknowledge it.

"Oh, don't worry." He bent down to whisper in my ear and I clenched my pen, ready to use it if need be. "I'm not going to do that to you. Yet. But I will my dear, your question has offended me." He returned to his seat with a creepy grin. I knew this man could do beyond unspeakable things to me and truth be told I was scared. "I'm not someone you want to offend, Pumpkin."

"Well, I apologize." I cleared my throat. "Also, I ask that you refer to me as Dr. Quinzel. 'Pumpkin' is highly unprofessional." He actually snorted at my words. Taking a deep breath (more to calm myself than anything, I think) I reorganized my thoughts. What had we been talking about? "Note made. But you said he was there when you were born. What do you mean by that?"

The Joker grinned again. "He created me. Pushed me over the edge. Then threw me in this God awful place." He did his best to gesture to the room through the cuffs. "I hate small confined spaces. Reminds me of my _childhood_." He said sarcastically and vaguely. What the hell did he mean about Batman creating him?

"If he created you... the way you are now... wouldn't that make him your father in a way?" I wondered.

"You might not as dumb as you look, _'Dr_. _Quinzel'._ " He appraised. When he spoke his eyes sort of lit up, like he was glad I understood. "Batman and I are one in the same. He's the light, I'm the oppositional force of nature. I have my own agenda. The mans _just_ as insane as I am, have you seen how he dresses? On _purpose? What a riot!"_ The Joker laughed so hard tears ran down his cheeks. The laughter was infectious and I couldn't help but join in as I pictured it. It was pretty looney if you actually think about it.

"Don't forget his matching car!" I chuckled, shaking my head. Holy shit, I was sharing a laugh with the Joker. Highly unprofessional.

"You know Pumpkin, you're not half bad." At my pointed look at the use of 'Pumpkin' again he raised his bound wrists in mock surrender. "Sorry doc, I was trying to compliment you."

"I appreciate it. Please, continue. Batman." I said seriously, though I cracked a smile after saying The Dork Knights name. I wasn't exactly a fan of Batman. Maybe because he had never saved me and I'd never seen him in person. He wasn't real to me and he didn't have a particular importance in my life. All he seemed to do was attract crazy people with mighty vengeances against him. Vengeances mighty enough to risk the city _multiple_ times.

The Joker grinned. "All I want is to make him laugh, doctor. Really _laugh_. He's always so _serious_. He won't kill anyone. He won't even kill _me!_ How crazy is that?! I've long lost count of how many people I've killed, the accidents I've caused, the pure, _delicious_ _chaos_. Precious memories." He sighed fondly. "But still, he won't take me out. Won't put an end to me. Practically allows me to do as I wish. Insane. Tragic, really, I don't think the poor thing knows he's crazy." His tone was faux sympathetic.

Again, a perspective I had never considered. However... It sort of made sense, which utterly disturbed me. Why _hadn't_ Batman ever killed him? Looking down at my case file his list of charges and escapes took up nearly two pages. Why not just kill him and stop the threat for good? It made no sense. I wasn't quite sure how to respond and he didn't continue.

I'm not sure how long we sat in silence staring at each other. It wasn't long, maybe five minutes. The whole session the electric charge in the air hadn't disappeared at all. His eyes were so intense. Too intense. _Tap_. There was Frank. Without waiting for a cue from me he opened the door, hand on his gun as always. "He didn't give you any trouble, did he?" His tone was uncerimoniously harsh.

"No, we had a decent session, thank you."

"Alright, get up clown, back to your room." He sneered, grabbing the Joker's cuffs and roughly pulling him up. No doubt the harsh metal would cut into his skin. The sight angered me. The man was _mentally ill_ for God's sake.

"Take it easy with my patient, Frank." I warned. The Joker turned to glance at me in mild surprise, a smirk sprouting. But this one was darker for some reason. Maybe because Officer Boles was being a dick, who knows?

"He killed three of my crew when he busted out of here!" Frank said in disgust at me standing up for him. Oh. I hadn't known that. But still.

"Only three? I say next time let's aim for a hundred!" That chilling laugh returned.

"Shut it." He pushed him toward the door.

"Until next time, dear Doctor..." He trailed off as they left. I watched the door trying to organize my thoughts. The first session... Had gone pretty well. I couldn't wait to see him Friday and delve deeper into his mind. Excitedly I took my book to my desk and scribbled furiously, documenting some of the things he had said. What an interesting human being and I hadn't even scratched the surface. This book might actually be possible! But that was a bit optimistic. It was only one session.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up Friday morning sweaty and nauseous from a nightmare. It was truly bizarre and that didn't stop it from terrifying me. It started in a home I didn't recognize, but it was dark. I could see outlines of things but not much else. And the _smell_. Like rotting blood.

"I'm sorry Doctor Quinzel, you were making too much noise. I had to shut you up." Emily said regretfully. Where the hell _was_ she? Where the hell was _I?_ And why couldn't I see?

I went to reply and noticed I couldn't open my mouth, it hurt to even try. I attempted to feel them but my hands felt much too heavy to lift, like they were made of concrete. This is where the nausea came in. I looked around frantically, starting to panic. I had absolutely no information and was nearly blind. Helpless.

Muffled noises of hysteric cries for help ripped a bit of the skin of my lips. Had someone _sewn my mouth shut?!_ Suddenly bright blue eyes were the only source of light in the room. A click of a switch illuminated the room, but only enough to see a small circumference of space.

The Joker stood in front of me, looking down to my face in a critical manner. "Shh, shh, shh, _shhhhhhhhh_ Pumpkin, Daddy's here." He soothed, raising my chin with his index finger to get a better look at my mouth. My eyes darted around his face and I did actually calm down a little. Emily had done this, not him. So why was he here then? To help me...? I tried to reach for him eagerly, but I just couldn't lift my damn arms. They got about 3 inches off the ground and fell again with a devastating thud. _"Calm down_ , Harls, have a laugh or two. You'll be here for a while." His head turned to the left. I noticed he called me 'Harls'. He had never done that, he only knew me as Dr. Quinzel. So then how- my thoughts were cut off by him yelling. "Wrong, _again,_ Emily. How many times must I teach you?" He was audibly angered and frustrated. "It's your technique that's sloppy. Do it with _purpose."_ He advised.

Turning to me he hooked his index finger through the thick string into my mouth and pulled hard, yanking it out roughly. Each stitch tore through my skin and I screamed loud, crying as I felt the blood run down my chin. My lips didn't even feel like lips anymore. I was trapped, a victim of my own immobility. My heart pounded and I started to feel a bit light headed. "Stop with the dramatics, Harley." The Joker grabbed my throat and cut of my air supply. I could do nothing to stop him, besides passing out would most definitely benefit me. His crystal blues hooked my own, distracting me at the complexity of his irises. "Now, are you done? Are you going to behave for me, baby?" He cooed. I nodded the best I could. I would say anything to get him to let go of me. "Good girl." He let go of my throat and patted my cheek affectionately.

I gulped in air so hard I coughed and sputtered for a moment. My head hung as I took a series of deep breaths to ease the insufferable pounding. Blood coated my tongue and bile rose in my throat. A sharp sting of a needle pricked into my neck and more rapidly than I could handle my vision shifted. I saw three of everything and the colors popped much more than usual. I saw three Emilys in blood spattered yellow dresses, not the horrid orange jumpsuit. She held a large needle and equally large thread and looked doubtfully at the Joker. My vision started to fade and everything sounded like I was at the end of an impossibly long tunnel or on a fuzzy radio station. "Go on, try again." The Joker encouraged. That was all I remember before waking up.

Reimagining it all made me need to vomit. So I ran to the bathroom and did exactly that. A look at the clock confirmed I had woken up half an hour late. Fuck. Great morning so far. I couldn't help feeling my mouth- checking, just to be sure.

I made it to Arkham right on time, practically sprinted to my office. The Joker today. Phenomenal. I spooned down my cheap granola and yogurt combo as quickly as I could manage. I hadn't had much time to think about the dream and, psychiatrist or not, I didn't want to. I had no desire at all to analyze, or even think of it again. So I chalked it up as just a random nightmare from Emily's session yesterday and moved on.

I crunched quietly as I went through my emails. I replied to some, deleted others, made note of new patients and patients that would be leaving me as a sane man or woman. That actually made me smile. Curing people... Was an indescribable feeling of accomplishment. Like finally solving a 1000 piece puzzle. "Good morning," I smiled at the guards as I went into the special room.

Frank hauled the Joker in and ushered him roughly to his seat. I took my place with my book and gave Frank a smile. "See you in an hour." The door clicked behind him without a word. His attitude was starting to piss me off.

"Good morning, Mister Joker." I tried my best to forget the dream and give him a pleasant grin. I think I did okay.

"Good morning, doc." He grinned. "You look tired. Sleep well?"

"I slept fine, thank you." I dismissed. "Today,-"

"Don't tell me. Word association?" He snorted. "You quacks are so predictable."

He caught me. I was going to do word association. "No," I denied. "I want to know more about you."

"You make me blush, Doctor. But I don't give up the good for free." He winked.

"I expected as much." I rolled my eyes. "Tell me something about you, and I'll tell you something about me." I bargained, raising my brow.

"Oh, no, Harleen, I already know everything about you." He rejected, leaning comfortably back into his seat.

My eyes narrowed. How the hell...? "Oh, yeah?" I challenged with a small shock-giggle, making him grin like the mad man he was.

"Harleen Francis Quinzel, commonly referred to as Harley. Lives alone in the Hilltop apartments in East Gotham. Number 2273 to be exact. Excelled in gymnastics throughout high school and college and graduated GU with a 3.8 GPA." He grinned evilly with a wink. "Oh. Right. And your blood type is AB positive." He stated matter of factly.

My mouth hung open in complete disbelief. It was highly disturbing he knew this much about me and we had only had one session. At the same time, it was sort of flattering somehow. I didn't let my mind linger on that.

"Can you blame me for getting curious?" He asked at my expression.

"How?" I asked shortly.

"Eyes and ears everywhere." He said vaguely with a wink.

"Do you stalk all of your doctors?" I questioned with a bit of a sharp tongue.

"No. Not all. Harleen Quinzel. A beautiful name, really." I disagreed. "Rework it a bit and you get-"

"Harlequin. Like the clown. I know, I've heard it before." I said boredly. Predictable from someone who was known for being the opposite.

 _"Har-ley Quinn."_ His voice was thick, like honey. "It's a name that puts a smile on my face, doc. Like there's someone here I can _relate to._ Someone I can share my secrets with."

"Really?" I grinned. This book would be a piece of cake. _"Tell me!"_ I said eagerly.

He burst into a fit of uncontrolled giggles. "Come on now, toots, surely you didn't think it would be so _simple."_ He said, sounding a bit disappointed.

Damn it. Damn him. "Come on, Mister J, you know so much about me and I know next to nothing about you. It's a bad joke."

"Harley, you have multiple pages about me in front of you." He pointed out.

"Of your crimes and breakouts, yes. I know nothing about _you_. And similarly, you have facts on paper about me but don't actually know _me."_ Which actually made me feel better.

"I suppose you're right." He said in a disgruntled tone. "Fine. I'll indulge you. Ask me something."

"Tell me about your parents."

"That's not a question. Mommy died. Daddy killed her with a rusty knife after he found two suitcases, one for her one for me. I remember how the blood stained her hair. It smelled like pennies." He paused, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes for a moment. "Then, he tried to kill me too. Gave me a pretty scar. I ran and ran until I passed out. Then I woke up and ran some more. Found myself in New Jersey. The police contacted my dad and I tried to run away but they caught me. A week later he nearly killed me in my sleep. But like mom, whose blood still stained the linoleum, I kept a knife under my pillow too. I killed him and felt amazing. I burned the house with his body inside and realized how easy it is to be _free_ _._ Roasted a hot dog on a stick over the flames. _"_ he chuckled fondly _._

I tapped my pen against my paper. "I see. What age were you?" I asked.

"14 or 15." He guessed.

"And after?"

"Decided to try a career in comedy a few years later. Stand up. But my humor is ... Darker than most. I wasn't successful. The girl I loved decided she didn't love me back anymore… I think. Then, I met Batsy." His eyes sparkled

"Is any of that true?" I dead panned.

"You know, your guess is as good as mine!" That maniacal laugh was back and sent a chill down my spine. So much for learning something. He was just filling my ears with creative garbage. I crossed my arms and sat patiently. What a waste of time.

"Well, Mister J, I suppose we should end our session for the day. We are making _no_ real progress." I said stiffly, loudly snapping my book closed.

"Oh, _come on Pumpkin,_ don't be such a bad sport. And I get to be _'Mister J'_ now?" He teased. Oh shit, I hadn't even realized I had been saying that instead of Mister Joker and he called me out. Despite my best efforts my cheeks blushed in embarrassment. "I like it." He complimented with a flash of his grill.

"It's shorter." I tried lamely. He stood gracefully and slowly strode toward me.

"Cut the shit. You know, Doctor, I've quite enjoyed these past two sessions with you. I feel like you've enjoyed them as well." He leaned over me.

"You've got a highly intriguing mind. Or, at least I think you would if you actually let me inside of it." I shrugged. His closeness didn't bother me. He was restrained. As soon as the thought popped into my head his hands grabbed my throat and, like in the dream, cut off my air supply. My hands flew up to claw at his arms, but it did no good. How long had he been pretending to be restrained?

"You want a look into my mind? Right now I'm thinking about watching the life fade slowly from your pretty eyes and then carving a smile deeply into your cheeeeks." His words were spoken with intensity, but he let me go. "But you're too much fun, I'm not done with you yet. Was that 'intriguing' to you?" He sneered.

 _"You absolute psychopath!"_ I coughed and rubbed my tender neck.

"Yes ma'am?" He chuckled. One of his fingers fixed a few tendrils that had fallen out of place and brushed them behind my ear. He tilted my chin to look at him and he was closer than polite distance. "That's your problem, Harley, you're _too serious_. Just like the bat. Give Daddy a smile." He purred.

I stared at him incredulously. He was so close I could _smell_ him. Clean with no nameable scent. He just sort of smelled like... The Joker. Sort of musky. And the way his eyes held onto mine, I felt like they saw too much... But I saw him too, I just didn't have a label for what I was seeing. I smiled and it wasn't even fake, which was scary and weird and I didn't understand it at all. I had to get back in control.

"Beautiful," he grinned, moving back to take his seat. Like last time we shortly sat in a comfortable silence. Before he left I heard "This is going to be _fun."_

I walked back to my office in a thoughtful daze. The story. Was it real or a spontaneous tale? I had been trying to read his body language for clues as to when he might've been lying but couldn't find a pattern. Most people subconsciously blinked twice or messed with their nails. If it was real, it was significant to the inner workings of his mind. I needed _more_. Knowledge felt like a drug.

I sat at my desk and added notes to his file while sipping on some tea. Very, very interesting.

By session four Joker slipping out of the straight jacket was to be expected. It was stormy today and he chose to lay down.

"Let's play a game." I grinned. "It'll to be a boring shrink game, but still, a game."

"Okay." He agreed, looking at me as I prepared my papers. That lovely electricity still charged the air around us, though I ignored it.

"It's basically word association but really fast. Like first thought, spit it out. 5 words a round, 3 rounds, try to beat your time." I explained, straightening my posture in the seat next to him and setting up the timer. "Kink." I started.

"Sex."

"Berate."

"Eliminate."

"Knife."

"Beautiful."

"Law enforcement."

"Filthy."

"Batman."

"Fun."

"Ten seconds." I wrote, as well as his answers. "Round two." I reset the timer. "Death."

"Expression."

"Sun."

"Light."

"Holiday."

"Uncomfortable."

"Cat."

"Resentment."

"Paint."

"Tool."

Scribble, scribble. "11 seconds. Round 3. Candle."

"Message."

"Unity."

"Destruction."

"Gotham."

 _"Mine."_ he growled.

"Gun."

"Money."

"Territory."

"Control." I looked at all of his answers. I had questions. Running my pen against my lips I tried to figure out where to start. "What's the verdict, doc?"

"Distrust of authority," I started slowly, still thinking. "Control issues. Why do you resent cats?" I asked curiously.

"I had a kitten at some point in time and I killed it. Snapped his neck." he answered.

"Why?"

"I can't remember." he said darkly. It was kind of scary. I really didn't want to push him with no restraints. But I was so curious...

"...why?" I asked again.

"Meds, electroshock therapy, various work-related concussions, exposure to toxins, take your pick. Let's talk about _you,_ doctor." he sat up, bringing his face within inches of mine. Looking into his eyes, I smirked a bit and leaned toward him.

"We're out of time." I whispered in a slightly teasing way and stood. "See you Monday."

Today was Monday. My weekend was over. If I'm honest, I'd rather have been working. I would see Mister J again today. It was pretty routine at this point. Normally I wasn't much of a dreamer when I slept, but lately I had dreams (half of the time nightmares) every other day nearly consistently. Some were pleasant. Some were dirty in the _best_ possible way (these were my private shame I would never admit to). Some made me sleep with the lights on and TV loud. The thing they all had in common was _him_.

Today would be our tenth session and I felt optimistic, like I had been making real progress. He even downgraded from the straight jacket to cuffs. He told me lots of stories and jokes and I wrote them all down as well as the way he said them. I couldn't find any pattern, though. Nothing that could be tied to when he was telling the truth. From our talks it was obvious his memories before meeting Batman were harder for him to remember.

Getting out of bed I tied a fluffy black robe that hung to my knees around my naked form. I leaned on the bathroom counter and looked at myself in the mirror. I wanted to do something... Different today. Normally I kept it basic; sensible shoes, shapeless top, bun (or ponytail) and minimal makeup. Brushing the knots from my wavy hair I did two identical French braids that rested against my back, leaving two blonde tendrils to curl around my face.

I rarely did anything special with my hair and I felt cute. But I wanted to look _hot_. I did the whole nine with my makeup. Face powder, blush, mascara, eye shadow, eyeliner and a dark berry lipstick. I winked at myself in the mirror. "Damn, baby, come here often?" I asked myself with a giggle. It was a good morning so far. And my favorite weather. Rainy. I pulled a dark grey pencil skirt from my closet and paired it with a classy white blouse. Hmm. Heels or Mary Janes? Fuck it, heels!

Grabbing my umbrella I decided to walk to work. I almost felt like whistling as I made my way through the wet Gotham streets, keep in mind I'm not at all a morning person. On my days off I slept until noon. But today I was practically _burping_ rainbows.

I could see Wayne Tower a couple blocks away, a gorgeous building, though not even close to as beautiful as Bruce's home. I'd been there a time... Or two. For his charity parties of course. Not to mention he's good in the sack. Or, so I hear.

As I walked to my office a group of guards stared at me, their jaws hanging open. I giggled and gave them a fluttery wave. "Hi, boys! Beautiful day, huh?" I wasn't talking like Harleen, but more like myself. Less reserved. I doubted they even heard what I said but they all nodded and agreed. I continued to my office and got my things ready for the day. I had skipped breakfast, but brought a big lunch so I didn't mind.

After a while, a tell-tell knock yanked me out of my thoughts and my brows dented in confusion. Oh, shit, I zoned out and was late to my appointment with Joker. I grabbed my book and pen and rushed out the door, past Frank.

"Wow, Harleen, you look great." His eyes bugged out of his head. Nice drool, buddy.

"Thanks. And I thought I told you to call me Harley." I chided. The constant calling me by my full name annoyed me to no end.

"Sorry." He apologized, following easily with my hurried steps. "How was your weekend?" he asked.

"Pretty boring." I answered honestly. "What about you? Do anything interesting?"

"I went hiking with some friends out in the mountains. Do you like stuff like that?"

"I love hiking." I smiled politely as he took over for one of the guards guarding Joker's room. Opening the door I figured our conversation was over.

"You should come with me sometime. Maybe next weekend?" he asked a bit hesitantly.

"We'll see." I hedged.

"Well can I, uh, get you anything, or-" T

oo nice. That was my problem with Frank. I didn't want a man that was too nice. Where was the fun in that?

"Frankie boy, you can flirt with the good doctor _after_ my session." Joker said in a bored tone, projecting his voice.

Frank glared at him and I swear I saw his finger twitch toward the trigger. I clenched my fist. "Listen here, clown. I've got the power to toss you in a cell and throw away the key whenever I feel like so you'd better show me some respect." He snarled in embarrassment at being called out.

"Oh, Frankie." He said cheerfully. Almost as if he were fond of him. Abruptly his tone changed to one of warning. "You'd better learn to keep that fat mouth of yours shut. It'll get you into trouble. Or maybe even darling little McKayla." The Jokers tone was deadly and it effectively shut Frank up.

"Frank, if you continue to have issues working with my patient I'll have to request a change." It was my turn to glare at Frank.

Frank's head turned to return the glare. "Point _taken,_ Doctor." He sneered and left.

"Sorry about that." I apologized on Frank's behalf. "The cops and guards in this city, always beating on the sick and defenseless. The ones they're supposed to be helping. It makes me sick." I shook my head in disgust.

"Don't worry about me, toots. Trust me, I can handle myself." He smiled, looking me over. "Well the guards were right, don't you look _mag-nif-i-cent_ today." He whistled lowly and licked his lips. I couldn't help but smile at his reaction. He looked at me like a man would look at a prime rib after not eating for a week.

"Thanks, Mister J. I felt like a change, the weather put me in a good mood." I grinned and rose from my seat. I set my notebook on the table and approached him. "Also, I have a surprise."

"Ooh, don't keep me waiting darling, deliver the punchline." He said excitedly. Slowly, I reached into my skirt pocket and pulled out a small silver key. His eyes followed the entire time like I was the most engrossing movie. My left hand reached down to grab his wrist and raise it so I could unlock him. His skin felt soft and I lingered possibly a bit longer than necessary. An impossible grin spread across his cheeks when the cuffs fell off. "You little minx, how ever did you get that?" He looked up to me and gently grabbed one of my braids.

"It's part of your therapy. How can you grow to trust me being restrained like that? At least, that's what I asked Doctor Arkham." I grinned, reaching to untangle his hand from my hair. "Very unprofessional, sir." I faux chided, retaking my seat. "It didn't hurt that there haven't been any altercations or, er, attempts on your part."

His eyes followed me. "Have you ever had a really _bad day,_ Harley?" He asked somewhat seriously. His quick change of tone took me by surprise, but I was eager for the conversation.

"Well of course I have. Hasn't everyone?" I asked. He laid on the couch with one arm casually supporting his head. I moved my chair to sit closer to him so I could observe his movements and facial expressions. I did this with every patient that chose to lie down but I'll admit I chose to sit closer to the Clown Prince I had grown somewhat fond of. The damn man I dreamt about far too much. My feelings toward him were strange and I probably understood them less than anyone.

"Tell me about it." He said shortly. Not a request.

"We're here to talk about you." I denied, shaking my head.

 _"Harley,"_ he said in the same warning tone he had used with Frank. I sighed in defeat and closed my book, sinking into the chair.

"I dated this boy a few years ago when I was 21. Daniel." I said bitterly. Even his name left a bad taste in my mouth. "We hadn't been going out long, maybe two months but I was crazy about him. We went out to a club one night and I had a drink or three. It was fun for a while, I love to dance. He introduced me to his friends I'd heard so much about. I was excited, he was ready to let me fully be apart of his world. Well, mostly, I hadn't met his parents yet." The Joker sat up, listening intently. It made me uncomfortable. "There were three of his friends. All men bigger than I am. But I didn't pick up a bad vibe. We all hung out and drank more, played some darts. Then, it was time to go." I paused. I didn't want to talk about this. Not with him. It was my biggest shame. I didn't continue.

"Keep talking." It was clear I had no choice.

"... We all took one car, but instead of going home or dropping them off we drove far to the outskirts of town. One of their houses I guess. I don't know. I asked to go home and Daniel laughed and said we were gonna hang out for a minute. So I said okay and we went inside." I paused, playing with my braid.

 _"Just chill, Harley, Jesus." Daniel rolled his eyes._

 _"I'm tired and you told me you were talking me home." I snapped. I always got bitchy when I was tired._

 _"Can you just chill the fuck out?" He asked, furrowing his brows in annoyance. "Or I could make you."_

 _"Excuse me?"_

 _"Come here, baby...". He grabbed me from behind, cupping my breast with one hand and reaching into my panties with the other one._

 _"Cut it out!" I turned and pushed him away. "Fuck it, I'll call a cab. Goodnight." I spat, heading for the door._

 _"I don't think that pill worked, man, she's too angry. Come here, lil mama, I'll make you feel okay." His tall, red head friend said. It was impossible to ignore the bad vibes now and the seriousness of the situation sat in._

 _"Gimme that phone and stop being rude." Daniel said, snatching my phone and throwing it against the wall. He grabbed my arm impossibly tight, like he might snap it._

 _"Ow! I'll scream." I warned. He just laughed at me as the others advanced._

 _"Please do. No one will hear you." he promised_.

"Long story short they pinned me down and took turns. It was horrible, every single second. I bled. A lot. And when I would try and scream they would push my face into the dirty floor." My eyes started to water. I clearly remembered the strong scent of mildew, sweat, and coppery blood. Fuck. I took a shaky deep breath. "When the last one was done I found a vantage point and kicked him off of me. Thank God I was in gymnastics, my muscles were stronger than some of theirs. And good thing they were tired. I tried to fight them. All four of them. Two I got down but they started to win and I bailed and ran back to town still naked. My clothes were beyond ripped, there was no point in trying to retrieve them. The best part was it was raining. They tried to follow me so I ran through the woods. Cut the hell out of my feet but I kept going until I got back to town. The looks I got! Luckily the rain washed the blood from between my legs away. I can only imagine how I looked. I was shaking and scared, but one woman called the police to help. I got hypothermia." And chlamydia, but there was no way in hell I was telling him that. "It took me years to deal with it emotionally. I moved and didn't press charges. I never want to see him again."

"And what was his last name?" The Joker asked curiously.

"Doesn't matter." I didn't even want to be talking about myself to begin with and now all of these memories were dredged up. My professional advice to myself was to write a long detailed letter to Daniel and burn it. I laughed inwardly. Yeah, right.

"Harley, I'm getting mad and I'm not restrained."

"Like that's different from any other session." I said sourly. "It's Hunt. Are you happy now?" I asked sharply through brows dented in anger. I hated the way he was speaking to me. He stood and yanked me up by my neck. My things fell to the floor but I grabbed my pen. My right fist came to swing around and punch him in the face, busting his bottom lip. He didn't drop me, only squeezed tighter. Maybe he had a fetish for neck play. If I could breath I would've laughed. Black spots started popping up in my vision and he shoved me hard against the wall. My head hit with a solid smack. Fight or flight mode kicked in and my pen came down to stab him in the right arm. He cursed and dropped me. I fell to the floor and quickly stood, which seemed impossible in my heels unsteady body. The air hit my deprived brain and I felt like I could think again. I kicked my heels off and gripped one as a weapon. I went to strike him and he caught my arm. My other fist went to hit him again and he caught that one too. The pen was still securely lodged in his arm.

We looked at each other both panting from the commotion. I don't know what came over me, I really don't. Maybe it was the high from the adrenaline, or maybe I just couldn't handle the tension anymore. I kissed him. Hard. Kissing him was something new. Something forbidden. The taste of his lips was indescribable and delicious. He tasted like danger. Animalistic, he kissed me back shoving me again hard against the wall once more. He trapped me on either side and my arms came to wrap around his neck in a death grip. My left leg hitched around his waist and pulled his middle closer. Hands went everywhere. I felt the taut muscles of his chest and it was hard not to slip my fingers under his Arkham sweats, but I resisted. This was already crossing such a huge line. His hand moved to yank roughly at my braids. Abruptly the kiss broke and he harshly gripped my jaw and forced me to look up at him.

"See what you made me do? Don't test me again or I might actually have to _kill_ you, Pumpkin. Understand?" He asked, gripping tighter. I nodded furiously. Why had I pushed him like that? It was playing with fire. But playing with fire had gotten me kissed. The blood from his busted lip was on my face. I stroked the offended skin of his face, smearing the blood further.

"Sorry I busted your lip, Mistah J." I frowned, not realizing I didn't even bother trying to sound like Harleen anymore. My accent slipped through. "And stabbed ya with a pen."

"Don't let-" Without warning Frank burst into the room, gun ready. He saw me trapped against the wall and the way Joker had me. At the sound of the door opening I dropped my hand from his face and licked the blood from my lip like my life depended on it. The Joker stilled my wrist. "Harleen! I thought I heard something hit the wall. Get away from her, Joker! I'll shoot!"

"Ham it up, doll." The Joker whispered to me. I nodded with my eyes.

"Frank, thank God! Help me!" I yelled, struggling to get away. Two orderlies in white uniforms pointed tranquilizer guns at the Joker and shot him twice.

"Oh, Frankie, calm down." His words came out slower and his grip on me loosened. "I was... Just having fun... With the good do-" he fell to the floor unconscious. As prior mentioned, I'm not a crier, but I cried like my life depended on it. Barefoot I ran to Frank. The orderlies picked him up and noticed the pen in his arm.

"I'm glad we were close." One of them grunted to the other.

"Thank you Frank." I hammed it up, as instructed. "You're a lifesaver. Literally." I laughed uneasily.

"No problem. I hate to think if you had ended up like Joan." He said in a heavy tone. _I_ hated that the session was cut short. More than that I hated seeing the Joker unconscious on the floor of this dirty place. "You should probably go talk to Doctor Arkham." He suggested. "Are you okay?" He looked me over.

"My jaws a little sore and I have a headache, but I'm fine. You're right, I think I will go talk to him." That was the _last_ thing I wanted to do. The old man would remove me from his case. But I was determined not to let that happen. I'd try whatever tricks I had up my sleeve. I realized I never got to hear where he was going by asking about my bad day. It was never as simple as a question with him.

I tapped at his door and let myself in. "Hello, Harley. Are you okay, you look a bit shaken. He didn't try anything did he?" He asked quickly.

"Actually yes. But everything's okay. I'm fine." I assured him.

"Give me that key back immediately. This was a horrible idea." He said bitterly.

"But it _wasn't."_ I said with a bit of energy as I passed back the key. "I think I broke through a wall today." My eyes locked with his. Bullshit, but he'd never know.

"Really?" He asked hesitantly with a cock of his head.

"Yes. Please Doctor Arkham. Don't do anything drastic. I'm making progress."

"If you think I'll let it continue as it has been your wrong."

"Put him back in a jacket and give me a tranquilizer gun just in case." I suggested. Jeremiah's fingers drummed against the desk.

"He didn't hurt you?" He reiterated.

"I stabbed him with my pen before he could."

"Good thinking. Okay, Harley. He's spending two days in solitary confinement and he's all yours _WITH_ a straight jacket and _WITH_ a tranquilizer gun in your possession. If something like this happens again I'm pulling the plug no questions asked." He said seriously.

"Crystal clear." And it was. Arkham couldn't have another death under its belt, especially so soon. It had only been two months since Joan's passing.

The whole rest of the day I thought about our little rumble. My fingers traced my lips. I felt horrible about him having to spend 48 hours completely alone in a dark dingy room. What had happened?

I had gotten comfortable with him in our past sessions. I didn't mind spending time with him, he entertained me. And always had questions. He was interested in me.

Bubbles covered me in a hot bath in my apartment. I rubbed my sore jaw. What the hell had come over me? I not only _fought_ with him, but _kissed_ him too! I'd be fired on the spot if anyone knew. And then when Frank came in he took the fall so I wouldn't have to. I wanted to be with him. But I was here and he was there. In three days I could see him again. It was far too long. I chided myself for my thoughts. Half of me was disgusted. Lately I disagreed with myself quite a bit.

When my bath failed to settle me I focused on an old hobby. Drawing (with a glass of wine). I drew myself as a jester. HARLEY QUINN THE HARLEQUIN I wrote in big letters. The way it was drawn I was sort of a circus act doing daring gymnastics. The costume was cute. Quirky. Perfect. I thought back to the fight. He had easily overtaken me. I hated that. I wanted to stand my ground. I'd have to strengthen my body. I longed to be strong again.

I went to the gym and stayed for a few hours. Running, push-ups, jumping jacks, squats, crunches. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. My mind was made up. I was determined. I even practiced my old tricks. I could still do a backspring but not a front walkover. I was rusty. The next morning I couldn't move an inch and had to call in. But I already felt stronger. Safer.


	3. Chapter 3

My head throbbed the next morning. The wine had majorly dehydrated me, I could practically hear my cells screaming for water. A glance in the bathroom mirror revealed I had fallen asleep in my makeup. _Yikes. Whatta train wreck,_ I thought, taking a quick drink of water from the sink (judge me). The Joker was still securely stowed away. Today I got to talk with Emily.

The girl had made real progress and I was hopeful to declare her stable and sane in no more than a year. Maybe 10 months at the rate she was progressing. I didn't dress as flashy today, but not totally boring either. A happy medium. My muscles still ached but not as badly as yesterday. They felt tighter. Stronger. But not strong enough yet. I needed to be able to hold my own.

After a fast breakfast of eggs (scrambled), toast (nearly burned and slathered with butter) and coffee (black. Minimal sugar) I grabbed my things and opened the door to leave. A small, curious, aggressively taped cardboard box with a crude 'Harley' written on top occupied my welcome mat. I bent down to retrieve it furrowing my brows in confusion. Trying not to make any assumptions (I wasn't expecting anything to be delivered) I brought it inside and dug up a knife. I cut slowly, unnecessarily meticulous to waste time (even if only milliseconds), unsure of what I might find.

I noticed I held my breath before opening it from focusing so hard and laughed at myself. "Calm down, Harls. It's just a stupid box." The sentiment worked and I opened the flaps. Inside was a nice, heavy mahogany box with a lock. I pulled it out in disdain, rubbing the smooth surface beneath my thumb. Why give me a box I can't even open? Before I finished the thought a dull glint of a small silver key (weirdly similar to the keys to the cuffs used at Arkham) at the bottom of the box caught my eye.

I unlocked the box. It was a stack of photos on top of something wrapped in black silk and a rich red rose. The first photo made my jaw drop and my breakfast nearly come up. It was (a much older looking than I remember) Daniel beat to absolute shit. His nose snapped to the left and his right eye was so swollen it couldn't be opened and was colored a deep purple that was basically black. A few random cuts on his face and neck bloodied up the picture. Somehow he was standing, holding a sign shakily written in blood. 'I'm sorry Harley from the bottom of my wormy little maggot heart.'

The picture shook me. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. The next picture showed Daniel on a couch in a casual position. The problem was in his face. Just as fucked up as before, this time his mouth curved up into a highly unnatural, painful looking grin with foam seeping out the sides. _My_ cheeks started to hurt just looking at it and I had to circle my jaw to relax my face again. His eyes practically bugged out of his skull and were bright deep red around his chocolate irises due to multiple busted veins. The effects of the infamous Joker Toxin. It wouldn't be visible from the outside, but his insides would've also been churned to useless mush. I was wrong, this was very real. There were a few other pictures but honestly I don't think I could've kept looking at them. They were too gruesome.

Then there was the thing wrapped in silk. I put the pictures on the counter and picked it up. I couldn't quite tell what it was, but it felt sort of soft. Unwrapping it actually did make me lose my breakfast. It was a fucking finger. Daniel's fucking finger. I dropped it next to the pictures. Now there was vomit all over my floor and my tongue tasted strongly of stomach acid. The rose was thorny and had a note attached. 'The joke was on Danny. Now no one has to look at him ever again. Burn this box. -J'. My mind couldn't put an answer to my one question together. How? _How_?!

I wanted the things out of my possession immediately. I put everything except the rose (sans note, which I also put in the box. Potential evidence) back how I found it, but debated keeping one or two pictures. Ultimately I decided against it and set it all ablaze in my fireplace. As I watched it burn what this meant sunk into my head. The Joker had effectively gotten rid of one of the men I had wished dead for years. He did it for _me_ , because of what Daniel did to me. The most twisted, warped sense of justice only the Joker could deliver. A slow, huge grin spread across my face. How _romantic_! Who knew? The Joker of all people, a romantic. Too bad I didn't get to thank him in person today.

I didn't leave the apartment until the box had burned completely and I cleaned up, which made me late for work. Really late. Dr. Arkham wasn't too happy. I brought the rose with me and a little vase for my desk.

My appointments were backed up and my whole schedule was upside down. I was also horribly distracted. I kept smelling my rose and picturing the Joker ending Daniel's miserable little life. I hope (I knew) he made him suffer. At first the idea utterly repelled me, but the more I thought about it I couldn't understand _why_. Daniel and his friends had taken something vital from me that night. Pushed me into a dark corner of the world I didn't know existed. Humiliated and violated me. It fucked me up for years. I didn't trust anyone. I guess that's why I was still single. But this man was willing to get rid of him for me and make it look easy without me even having to _ask_. Made him write me an apology in his own blood. It made me swoon. The infatuation with him struck like a match, hot and fast. I was done fighting it. I sighed dreamily. The Joker. My lil puddin' pop.

"Doctor Quinzel are you even listening? That's really rude you know." Emily huffed, crossing her arms. I blushed furiously and straightened my already straight glasses. I forgot they were even on.

"I'm so sorry, Emily, please repeat that." I was embarrassed and needed to straighten my mind out. Focus on Emily. Focus on anything other than him.

"Are you dating someone?" The young girl asked.

"No. What makes you ask that?" I wondered.

"You've got that look like you're sweet on someone. Who is it? A staff member?" Emily giggled, like she was gossiping with a friend. "Did he give you that rose?" Her head tilted toward my desk.

I sighed. "No. And it's no one. Someone I can't have. I'm not in a relationship. So I'm going to start you on 50 mg of Kanstor today at dinner. It's going to work with your sleep med to hopefully shut him up a little more. I also added a session with Dr. Marx once a week and extended your outdoor privileges."

"Thank you." She grinned. "I get the medicine, but why the others?"

"It's been proven that higher levels of serotonin promote healing. Enjoy. See you next time." I smiled.

At last the day was finally over. I brought my rose home with me, though it was showing the beginning signs of wilting. My apartment smelled atrocious and I opened all of my windows to circulate the smell of ashes, stomach acid and eggs away. I got to see Mister J tomorrow. The thought relaxed me. Though it was already 8 pm I got ready and went to workout again. I missed this. My body was still pretty weak but Rome wasn't built in a day. I passed out without cooking dinner, clothes still on.

"Doc-tor Quinzel, I live for these moments with you." There he sat, clad in a straight jacket. His words were slow, the effect of another sedative. He stayed tied, too tired to release himself.

"Thank you for the rose." I sat up and leaned my torso closer to him.

"I'm glad you liked my little gift." He grinned, leaning forward to meet me. I hated that his arms were bound, but this also kept me in control. Or gave me the illusion of it. I could untie him, sure, but it was so much more fun this way. His face was close. His eyes drove me crazy, the color and intensity of them was unprecedented by anyone else.

"How did you do it?" I asked curiously. "My place still smells like burned finger." My nose wrinkled.

"I told you. Eyes and ears everywhere. You don't get infamous like myself without a connection or two. A threat goes a long way coming from a guy like me. Just _look_ at me." He laughed crazily. I loved his laugh.

"How did that happen, exactly?" I wondered. My hands moved to stroke the side of his jacket. The poor man had the worst skin condition.

"A few years ago I was trying to do a deal with some guys who aren't from Gotham. Make some big cash, fast. We wore red hoods to protect ourselves, our identities. I didn't notice until too late that out of the 7 of us 2 were left. He was picking us off one by one. He's a clever one, that bat." His eyes shone with admiration. "I booked it with what I had. I couldn't care less about the other guy. Batman could have him. I just wanted the money. I hid in Ace Chemicals and he found me. I ran up the railings, over the vats but he caught up with me. It was a fist fight, and I was doing pretty well, but Batsy doesn't play fair. His suit is built in with all kinds of gadgets. He got me with a batarang then punched me and I fell over into one of the boiling chambers. I think." He mumbled, drifting off. He didn't sound completely sure, yet cackled anyway. "Think of it as a running gag."

"You think?" I asked, my brows denting in anger. Another waste of time?

"I remember flashes, that's how I see it if I ever dream." He explained looking like he might laugh. I felt bad for him. My poor baby, tormented by Batman's very existence. "It's the same every time. I know I fell into the chemicals for sure. _That's a feeling-"_ he shivered and rolled his neck. "That's a feeling you don't forget. The dream always ends with me in the rain, looking at my new reflection. It shocks me awake."

"This city has a rodent problem. Disgusting." I sneered. I tried not to show how excited I was that he had shared a big piece of himself with me. "Hey, so what's your name?" I inquired bluntly, cocking my head to the side. There was none on file except what he gave out: Joker.

"I don't remember." He dismissed, much to my chagrin. How depressing, to not even remember your own name.

"Wanna see my new toy?" I asked, pulling a small tranquilizer gun from my waistband. We sat on the couch him against one end, me against the other. So far we kept a polite distance and there was no mention of our last meeting. Gripping it with both hands I dramatically and slowly raised it so I would have a clear headshot. "Want some night night juice, Mistah J?" I smirked.

He leaned his face in to take a look at the gun before pressing his forehead against the barrel. Right under his 'Damaged' tattoo. "Looks cheap, but what do I know?" I had grown accustomed to the fluctuations in his voice and found it rather endearing. "Let's test it out, shall we?" He licked his lips. My fingers flirted with the trigger. I had all of the power. He was defenseless giving me an ace in the hole. Only to knock him out, but still. The choice was mine. His eyes closed.

But if I knocked him out I'd lose time with him. Duh. " _Pow_!" I imitated the sound of a gunshot and jolted like I fired it. I put it back in my pocket and kissed him once rather quickly. I couldn't help it. He excited me. Made me laugh. Understood me. I was happy when I was with him. Being honest with myself lifted a huge weight from my being and only added to my mood.

"Mmm." He sort of growled eyes still closed. They popped open. "I'm rather fond of you, Doctor. But they say I'm sick. Can you cure me?"

"I don't think you're sick. You make more sense than anyone else I know, actually." Which really made me think about a lot of things in a new light. Like certain Gotham City officials, for example. He told me things about them that made me lose what little faith in the city I had. "I'm rather fond of you too, Puddin'. Does that make _me_ sick?" I asked, resting my head against the side of the couch. He nodded his head yes and we stared each other down. "Can you cure me, Doctah J?" I grinned.

"Well sure I can." He grinned back. He stood up and took place in my usual chair. I laid flat on the couch.

"Good morning, Miss Quinzel. What would you care to talk about today?" He asked faux professionally. I sighed and took off the stupid glasses that were still on and tossed them onto the table.

"Well, Doctor, to put it simply over the past few weeks It's soon become clear to me that the Joker, so often described as a raving homicidal madman was actually a tortured soul crying out for love and acceptance." I began, not really filtering what I was thinking before I said it. How good did it feel to talk rather than listen? Especially to someone who actually cared about what I was saying. This had been plaguing me. I had ignored it but now it reared its ugly head with force, like a nuclear bomb. "A lost, injured child trying to make the world laugh with his antics. And there, as always, was the self righteous Batman." My tone had turned a bit bitter and my frown deepened. "Determined to make life miserable for my angel." I sighed heavily at what I was about to say. But fuck it, I was going to say it. "Yes, I admit it. As unprofessional as it sounds I have fallen in love with my patient. Pretty crazy huh?" I asked, giving him an embarrassed smile. Saying the word 'love' felt very weird. But... I had never felt this strongly about someone before. Not even close. I didn't have a word for it. So sure, love was as good a word as any.

He had the strangest look of victory and smug superiority on his face, yet I saw doubt as well. Is that how us doctors looked when someone spilled the beans? "Not at all. As a dedicated, career-oriented young woman you felt the need to abstain from all amusement and fun, especially after Daniel. It's only natural you'd be attracted to a man that can make you laugh again." He was pretty good at sounding professional.

"I knew you'd understand!" I sighed in relief. I didn't feel so crazy all of a sudden.

"There _is_ something you can do for me, Doctor." He purred.

"Anything." Spoken to quickly. "I mean, yeah. Anything in my power."

"I need a machine gun."

"A... _Machine gun?_ " I asked, confused. He laughed in response. How could I get him one of those? _Should_ I? But... He did tell me the closest thing to his 'Birth story' _and_ he dealt with Daniel. I couldn't forget that. He had already done so much for me.

"Harley, Harley, _Harleeeeeyyyy_. Baby. Sweetie. Pumpkin Pie." His words were silk. He had me. "Just do this one itsy bitsy favor for Daddy."

"How would you get it in?" I asked.

"You worry too much. Just drop it at the corner of 2nd and Gotham Boulevard tonight. It'll get to me." He assured me.

" _Tonight_?" I squeaked. So soon?

"Can you do it or not?" He asked shortly.

"I'll do it." I nodded. "But why?" I asked.

"You'll see soon enough." He laughed. It sort of scared me. But not enough to stop me. It should have.

Getting a gun... Wasn't too hard but the paperwork made the thought of jumping off a bridge pretty appealing. Dropping it off was a piece of cake. Chocolate, probably. Yum. Work the next day was stagnant. I kept waiting to hear about a madman with green hair shooting everyone, cackling all the while. But it was a blissfully quiet day. I guess I was glad (but not really).

That night is when it happened. I was watching the news as I ate dinner and my eyes widened in interest when a helicopter view of Arkham was being shown. THE JOKER HAS ESCAPED ARKHAM ASYLUM. STAY INDOORS AND PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. So far he had been missing for an hour. What if he was coming _here_? I had to clean, the place was far too messy for guests. Well, it was fine for guests. Too messy for _him_. Now it was spotless. An hour passed. Two. Three. It was now so late my eyes barely stayed open. He had my address memorized, wouldn't he come here after a breakout?

I woke up the next morning without realizing I had fallen asleep. " _Damn it_ ," I cursed. Where _was_ he? Work was hectic. News crews wanted statements and interviews and it pissed me off. I was trying to give adequate attention to my _other_ patients and they were majorly getting in the way. Right now I hated being his psychiatrist. Everyone thought I had the answers when really I was just as clueless. I didn't see him again for 4 long days. Each day I was hopeful. Each day I was let down. To distract myself I continued letting my frustration out through building up my strength. My mood had been quite piss poor lately and I knew exactly why. I missed him and not knowing where he was drove me bonkers. The thought was suffocating and parasitic.

I was at work later than usual (thanks again to the damn news crews. Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette was the most infuriating and persistent) finishing some of my reports when I heard it. There were gunshots. A lot of them. Men started yelling. Patients were screaming. My heart rate started to speed and I hid under my desk for protection. Not only did the noise get closer, but it also sounded like it was coming from multiple places. My office door burst open and glass shattered making me jump so hard my head hit the top of the low surface. My hand moved to clamp over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. "Doctor Quinzel, come out, come out, wherever you _areeee_..." An unrecognizable voice sang. His boot-clad feet were next to the desk and he was bending over to look under, I had to strike now. With both hands I grabbed his ankle and yanked with all of my strength.

He fell, landing with a grunt and a thud. I saw his head hit the floor. Asshole. Darting out from under the desk I seized his gun. My hair fell out of its hold and hung in loose ringlets around my face. For a moment I pictured myself. I felt like a badass. Two rounds was all it took for him to stop moving. It wasn't my first time shooting a gun, my dad had been very insistent on my mother and I learning, especially living in Gotham. It was, however, my first time shooting a _person_. I raised the gun protectively in front of me as two more guys ran in. Them or me. I shot the first in the neck and the other in the chest spraying blood onto my floor and walls. "That stain is _never_ going to come out of the carpet." I griped. It felt like a petty thing to complain about, all things considered. The bullets flew quicker than I could see, all I had to do was aim. Easy. Now to get out of here. I cautiously stepped into the hallway, gun first. Faster than I could stop it, my borrowed gun was knocked to the floor and someone grabbed my hair tightly at the base of my neck, throwing me to the ground. Another stupid guy I didn't know. Exiting gun first was a mistake. I hissed in pain as my elbow connected solidly with the concrete.

"We can't have you leave, you're the guest of honor." He said snidely.

"Watch me," I quipped, standing to run. It was futile and honestly, even if I _did_ get away I wasn't sure how far I'd get. But I had to try. If I didn't, could I really bitch about the things to come? Before I even took one step something hard and solid hit the back of my head at the base where neck meets skull and my vision blurred. Again I fell and tumbled onto the floor. Stars exploded behind my lids and two guys escorted me deeper into the asylum. "Get... _Offa_ me." I tried to no avail. We entered an electroshock therapy room and they strapped me on the table. Hell no. I struggled with everything I had and felt helpless against their brute strength. When I was securely locked in I challenged the buckles. No luck. The table was hard and uncomfortable.

Everything was sorta dark. Too dark to really see, which reminded me of one of the first dreams I had of him. I couldn't let my mouth get sewn shut, I just couldn't. Hysteric yells bubbled in my throat. I pleaded for anyone, even the stupid bat to help me. No one came. Surprise. Then I heard him laugh. "Puddin'?" I asked, straining to see.

"Well, well, well. What do we have _here_?" I heard him walk closer and saw his outline. A bright light shown in my face and temporarily blinded me. "You look good enough to eat. Too bad I'm vegan. Today, anyway." He laughed.

"Let me go, why am I tied up like this?" I demanded, looking into his crystal blues.

"Do you know what this is, dear?" He asked, gesturing to a machine. He clicked buttons and turned knobs, setting the voltage how he wanted it.

"Of course I do. What are you doing?"

"Do you know what happens before people go to Solitary?" He asked conversationally, picking up two electric prongs. He held them as if they were dear to him and stood behind me. I didn't answer his question. Over to the side one of his men nudged another.

"Damn, just _look_ at her man. I hope the boss gives us a turn." His brows raised and he grinned.

Joker grinned and momentarily let go of the prongs, letting them buzz mutely by my ears. "That's not why she's here you filthy pervert." He laughed. An escaped looney sat giggling, looking around nervously in the corner. "Are you talking to me?" He growled to the man. "Shut up!" He boomed, making me jump in fright. Tapping the side of my cheek quickly he bent over me. "Excuse me a moment." He smiled politely. My head turned to watch him drag the man by the hair to the doctors room, grabbing a bat along the way. "Keep her company!" He yelled to his henchman.

"So. Having a nice day?" The man asked with a humored chuckle as the sounds of Joker beating the man to death carried over to us. I struggled uselessly against the holds with desperation, growing more and more frantic. "Hey, I asked you a question!" He said angrily. I spat in his eye, struggling more. "You little bitch!" He slapped me hard, making my head snap to the other side of the table. I panted and closed my eyes to let the pain ebb.

A gunshot sounded and I screamed, begging the tears not to fall. J was trying to talk to me, but my ears rang from the close contact shot. His henchman was dead. "I'll ask again." His voice came into focus, and my eyes opened to stare him down. "No? You don't know? Or yes, you do?" He asked pleasantly. Again I didn't answer. "Well, let me educate you. Lubricate your mind, because I'm about to fuck it with knowledge." He smirked. My eyes narrowed and my heart rate sped faster the closer those prongs got to me. "They give you a pleasantly _refreshing_ electroshock therapy session. I thought you might like a taste or two."

"So what, you're gonna kill me Mistah J?" I demanded. I was trapped, doomed to be killed by the man I loved via voltage. How rough. How... Anticlimactic.

"What?" He asked, looking down at me long and hard. Like I was one of those stupid frogs you dissect in high school. "Oh, I'm not gonna kill ya." He denied. "I'm just gonna hurt you. Really, _really_ bad." He smiled. I studied his face. The light made his grill illuminate. I noticed this was my first time seeing him in person without an Arkham jumpsuit. He wore black sweatpants and his tone chest was bare. He had so many tattoos. A large skull jester, his name big across his torso, a series of HAs. What if this was some sort of test? Knowing him, it probably was. And if I was going to die anyway... What a creative way to go. Thinking of it that way made it feel like a video game. Might as well see what happens.

"You think so? I can take it." He wouldn't be the death of me. The thought stuck in my mind. He was perfectly capable of more things than I could think of, killing me would be a leisurely stroll on the beach to him. The Joker grabbed a leather belt and snapped it. It made me jump. "I didn't realize you were so _kinky_ , J." He put it in my mouth to shut me up. If I didn't laugh I would cry.

"Wouldn't want you to break those porcelain capped teeth when the _juice_ hits your _brain."_ He smoothed my hair back and set the charge, wasting no time pressing the prongs to my temples. The feeling... Was hard to put into words. My eyes clenched shut and my spine arched away from the table. A strong surge of hot energy jolted through my body, but my brain... Felt the most intense. In places it felt like it was turning to goo. _Melting_. I was actually surprised it didn't drip out of my ears. Then it all disappeared. My body tingled, I felt it in my nipples all the way to the tips of my toes. Nothing was happening but my body still lie stiff as a board, like I couldn't relax.

When I opened my eyes they lolled around, looking for something solid to stare at. Right now everything lagged behind and created a trail, sort of like an acid trip but less distinguished. "They say," he began. "This treatment can _remove_ some of your memories." I didn't even see it happen but he shocked me again. And again. I think I screamed. Maybe I cried. I'm pretty sure I wet myself at some point. "I already didn't have very many of those. Now it's even less. But why fret? Memories can be _made,_ too, Pumpkin. I'll never forget _this_."

" _Again_ ," I panted, curling my toes. After getting used to it the voltage wasn't so bad. " _My sinuses are almost clear."_ I laughed. The belt fell out of my mouth. "This is a pretty good joke." The headstrong, too confident psychiatrist. The homicidal, maniac clown. An electroshock machine. I laughed then laughed again. The next volt was set higher. My brain felt like absolute mush. And hot, like lava. Play Doh. I wanted to play with it, maybe mold it into a giraffe. Or a car. Or a Batman. I laughed harder. So hard I cried. It felt good to laugh, _really_ laugh. Black spots started clouding my vision and foam started to spill from my mouth. The scent of burning flesh only added to the humor. My heart felt ready to jump from my chest. I needed water. Bad. It wasn't long until I passed out. The last thing I saw was him. Why was he so beautiful? Why did I _still think_ he was beautiful? Why wasn't I angry? I didn't have an answer, but I didn't need one.


	4. Chapter 4

I glanced at the pages of his charges for the umpteenth time. I swear I had them memorized. "June 15th, two years ago. Does that date ring a bell?" I asked, tilting my head and resting my heavy pen against my lips.

"Nope." He popped the P. "Why, should it?" He grinned a crooked smile. Dark bags hung under his eyes today making him look at least 5 years older. Maybe 10. Still, he looked damn good. Good enough to eat.

"I would _hope_ so." I grimaced despite myself, trying not to glance at the various Polaroid photos for longer than necessary. "You crippled Barbara Gordon, shot her in the spine. Then, while she was unable to move, you undressed her, took pictures of her bloody, broken body and proceeded to mentally torture Commissioner Jim Gordon, her father with them… while _he_ was naked… in a love boat ride of all places. Highly theatrical." I said with a light mix of intrigue and weird admiration. He certainly had ambition! Then I wondered, "Where did you get the money for all of that?" I looked up from the paper with scrutiny and curiosity.

"You'll have to use your imagination for that one, Pumpkin." He dismissed with an uninterested wave of his hand.

I huffed mutely, resisting the urge to cross my arms. It crossed my mind how comfortable I'd gotten with him. It sort of bothered me, but a bigger part of me felt excited by it. I could feel myself getting addicted to him, and the craziness that was him. He hadn't killed me yet. He told me things (Though I tried not to put too much weight on that. I could never tell when it was the truth). "Fine. But Commissioner Gordon… Barbara-" I started, tapping the end of the pen against my paper. I wanted to dissect his brain, to understand him to the fullest extent.

"You want to know why I did it." Stated, not a question. I nodded once, incredibly interested in what his reasoning could be. His face slightly fell. "You really _can't guess,_ Doctor Quinzel?" He purred, matching the tilt of my head. "I thought you of all people would _under-stand."_ The bastard was toying with me. "Ooh, look! The suspense is _killing_ you!" He _died_ laughing. At first I _did_ cross my arms and roll my eyes in annoyance but then, he didn't move again staying eerily still. I looked for signs of breathing. None. As the silence stretched my anxiety grew.

"Cut it out, that's not funny." I said seriously, sitting up straight as a pin. Not so much as a twitch. His smile stayed stretched tightly across his frozen cheeks, eyes staring at nothing. "J." I said with more force, setting my stuff down and running over to him. I touched his clammy skin under his ear, searching for a pulse. As soon as I comprehended there _was_ , in fact, a pulse he jumped at me with a thundering "BOO!" I jumped a foot high and did a weird yelp-squeak-scream thing that got caught in my throat which made his already hysterical laughter boom louder. I was just glad I didn't literally piss myself, but lemme tell ya, it was close.

"Holy shit!" I whispered to myself, grabbing my chest and leaning against the wall for support. I panted as my adrenaline ran wild. "Why?"

"Feel that energy coursing through you right now?" He asked after composing himself, though a slight chuckled lingered in his voice. Wet trails of laugh tears blurred his cheeks. I nodded. "Feel it. Really _feel_ it. What's the most basic, unthinking response you have to it?" He inquired. Doing as instructed I felt the energy rush through my bloodstream. It tickled. So I giggled. Which felt good, so I laughed, which felt great. Then I was crying like he had been. I wiped my eyes with my thumbs careful not to smear anything. "See?" He asked. "For some people, it would be a scream. For you, it's laughter. Are you scared of death?" He asked. Wait, how did we switch places? I felt like the patient now.

"Not really." I denied. "I would say more indifferent." I corrected. "It certainly makes things more interesting. I tend to worry more about _execution_ rather than the end result. Everyone dies. But we weren't talking about me. We were talking about June 15th. Explain it to me." I requested, sitting a bit taller. "Maybe I'm just not thinking _big_ enough." I retook my place at the table, smoothing my stressed hair. He made it sound like his reasoning should have been obvious!

"It had nothing to do with _poor,_ immobile Babs." He dismissed, rolling his eyes. "I have nothing against her. I was sending a message to _him_. The _Bat_ -man." His eyes moved freely with excitement, helping him enunciate certain words. "I wanted to _remind_ him." He stressed, eyes drilling into mine seriously from across the table. His intense sort of… _urgency_ was exhilarating and I crossed my ankles under the chair, leaning closer to him. Hungry. "I've demonstrated there's no difference between me and everyone else! All it takes is _one bad day_ to reduce the sanest man _alive_ to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just _one._ Bad. Day. It can happen to anyone. Even Batsy's best friend Gordon. Even the Bat himself. They were naked to make them more vulnerable. I'm a lot of things Harley, but I'm not a perv. Vulnerability or lack thereof alone can drive a guy a bit off his rocker." His eyes never let mine go for a second and now held a certain flavor of humor. I unthinkingly quirked a half smirk in response. "Imagine it, Bats giggling in a corner while I watch him experience things from my point of view, sinking into a unique madness. And… if I remember correctly, _you_ had a bad day once, am I right? I picture you the same way and it. Is. Gloriouuuus, Doctor. What _potential_ you have." He smiled, though his tone was grave.

"Yes, but I didn't go insane." I protested, arching my brow.

"It wasn't a bad enough day. Let _me_ take a swing at it." He divulged, winking his tired eyes. "It wouldn't be hard."

My lips slipped into a sly grin. "Let's get back on topic. So you did all of that just to send a message to Batman?" I affirmed.

"Yep." He nodded simply.

"Do you feel bad about it? Any of this? Ever?" I asked in a neutral tone, no judgment. I couldn't get enough of the mind candy he supplied. Endlessly fascinating.

"I feel the same remorse as I'd feel squishing an ant. My only regret is that I haven't done more." He laughed. I clicked my pen and pressed it to the paper. _Total lack of empathy for others. Grand sense of self and need for attention, particularly from Batman._ "Life isn't meant to be _stale_ and unchanging. I'm the one who keeps everyone on their _toes_. I'm the one who keeps everyone _entertained._ That's why Penguin and I don't get along." He grimaced in distaste. " The old boy's all about order, _his_ way. Everything and everyone under him. What he doesn't _realize,"_ He smiled sarcastically with a mocking tone. "Is that his way, is shit."

"Interesting." I nodded. There was something else I wanted to know about. "You've never given out your name." I noted. "Why?"

"I can't remember it. It's pointless anyway." He quipped. "If I _did_ give you a name and you looked me up would you really feel like you've _cracked the code_ based on who I was? Would you really feel like you under- _stand_ me?" A bit of anger simmered in his challenging tone.

I laid my pen down and raised my hands in mock surrender. "Inquiring minds."

"You mean my _fans?"_ He chuckled. Easy, rapid change in emotions, I wrote. I stood and sat on the corner of the table in front of him letting my legs swing freely below me.

"Ya ever been in love?" I asked, grinning cheekily.

"I'm in love with _you,_ Doctor." He replied with a dark undertone and muted grin.

"What?" I asked in confusion (and the smallest pinch of hope), stilling my swinging legs.

"That's what you want to _hear,_ isn't it? I see it when you think you've cracked more of that oh-so-elusive code. You get excited. A bit arrogant. _Turned on_. Quite shameful, don't you think? Absolutely disgusting, and that's coming from me. Maybe _you_ need a shrink, Pumpkin." He said charmingly. It didn't connect with the words, further confusing me. He stood easily and parted my legs, standing between them and holding my knees while he leaned forward and down to eye level. I didn't move a muscle, but not because I was scared. The way he was looking at me and tightly gripping my legs, not to mention the feel of his body between me was turning me on. I was scared if I moved I would hump him to death.

"Did you just _shrink_ me?" I questioned with the slightest of laughs and a raise of my brow. "You did pretty well." My voice sort of strained.

"Mmm, just look at you." His eyes trailed from my face to my collar bone, across my chest then to my hips. I leaned forward extremely slowly, not even noticing I was doing so. He was magnetic. "Practically dripping, and I've barely even touched you." He continued, reaching his pale fingers out to cup my jaw. His skin was cold and hot at the same time. _Holy fuck,_ he was so close. I felt his breath on my face. This was too much, fighting what I so obviously wanted felt like an uphill battle on a burning unicycle in a blizzard. Impossible. I shot up and kissed him once deeply. I was surprised at my restraint. His lips were chapped, but I didn't mind. The warmth… Ugh…

I jolted awake feeling like I'd taken a cinderblock to the face. Why I had dreamt of that specific session was beyond me, though my subconscious added the touchy bit. That part didn't actually happen, though I wish it did. Squinting against the intruding light of late afternoon I realized I was in an unrecognizable bedroom. No flashy decor. Plain, but furnished. Forgettable. I felt… different. I couldn't explain it, because I didn't understand it myself. I felt… looser? Which was a big, fat conundrum because my body ached from extremely tight muscles and I had a migraine from hell. My heavy eyes blinked furiously as I tried connecting various dots. I was on a large bed, snuggled under blankets. Ugh. My body felt absolutely _battered._ My limbs felt like soft noodles stuffed with jello. Jelloodles. Ha. I rubbed my temple and I felt the pain in my elbow from landing on it so hard. The skin felt almost crispy which was sort of gross but really interesting, kinda cool and reminded me of potato chips, which made me hungry. My location was a mystery, but I was physically fine, despite the obvious. I tried my best to recall last night but it was difficult, like trying to see through mud. At night. I remembered bits and pieces but most of it was lost. Except him. I remembered _all_ about him.

"Ah, you're awake!" His voice crashed my train of thought off course as he entered the room, no survivors. The imagery made me crack a smile as I slowly sat up and shook my hair out. No _telling_ how I looked right now. I was still in my outfit from the day before. A rich maroon button up shirt, black skinnies... But I didn't feel any shoes. I admired his tattoos. This was only my second time to see them to their full extent. Same for his _body._ I'd been missing out _big time_. My eyes drifted to his pale, toned chest and my mouth literally salivated. I wanted to _taste_ him. Remembering he had spoken I tried to regain focus.

"How long have I been out, Puddin'?" I asked. My voice was raspy with sleep. I had absolutely no sense of time. It was sunny, but it could've been 1920 for all I knew. Ooh, that could be fun: HARLEY QUINN THE HARLEQUIN TAKES ON THE GREAT DEPRESSION! I could see it now, me in one of those cool black fedoras and pinstripe suits yelling "outta my way, coppas!" As I take off on a shooting spree. Wait, what was I talking about? FO-CUS.

"About 19 hours now. Hydration?" He asked, offering me a (dirty) glass of clean looking water. Eagerly I took it, but smelled it first to make sure he wasn't about to poison me. It smelled like nothing, so I took that as an okay. I gulped it in a very non-ladylike fashion. Absolute heaven, even my headache started to dissipate.

"Thanks! So, uh, where am I?" I asked. Was this where he had been after he escaped? _How boring!_ But my place probably _was_ too suspicious. He was so smart.

"One of my safe houses in West Gotham." He explained, sitting next to me. His warmth was nice. We weren't in Arkham anymore... I could do whatever I could manage with him and get away with it. Unless hepunished me. _Hot._ The opportunity would _not_ be passed up. I slid into his lap and kissed him deeply once. Twice. A third time. Each was more delicious than the last and they gave me a strong sense of butterflies. His taste was so unique, much better than my muddled memories. I hoped that wasn't permanent.

My torso pressed against his, clothed chest to bare. One of his hands gripped my hip, the other my face. "It's all over the news. The break in, your disappearance. They connected your little purchase with my escape. I don't think you'll be allowed back except as a patient." He laughed.

"No work? _Woo hoo!"_ I grinned, roughly pushing him flat. He bounced a little against the mattress from and grabbed below my ribs so hard it was painful, sure to leave bruises. I curled around him in the least innocent of ways, grinding my needy hips into his stiffening form. It felt damn good, so I slowed it down to really enjoy the friction. "Then it looks like we have plenty of time for whatever..." I said, licking his chin. I popped the top button of my shirt open, running my nails through my hair. "Whatta ya say, Mistah J. Wanna rev up your Harley?" I asked, biting my full lip. He abruptly flipped us so he was on top (effing control freak) and ripped through my buttons. A couple popped off and hit the wall, adding to my exhilaration. I don't know where it came from, maybe he already had it, but now his long fingers curled around the hilt of a knife. Slowly he ran the dull side of the blade from the middle of my forehead, down the bridge of my nose, past my bra down to the panty line. It tingled every millimeter of the way. Someone else probably would have been alarmed. Disturbed. But he was making me wetter by the second. It being the dull side it was still pretty sharp. He started back up and I arched my back, pressing my torso into the blade. A little pain never hurt anyone! Ha. A spot right under my sternum bled and he dipped his finger in the slow-forming puddle. Really, it felt like more of a sharp sting than an actual cut. Maybe that's just because it was him. If anyone else tried this I'd have a much different reaction. PROPERTY OF THE JOKER, he wrote across my frame. He licked the remainder from his finger then those lips met my neck and he bit roughly. I groaned at the feeling, loving his idea of foreplay. At the same time his long, white, dirty fingers undid my pants and slid under the fabric to play with my panties. My breath hitched in my throat and I slid my pants all the way off, abundantly eager for his touch. Abundantly eager to let him have more, to give him whatever he wanted. He looked me over, taking in every detail and I pulled him closer, if such a thing were even possible. I wished he would stop _teasing_ me. With the same knife he recklessly cut my bra off and my panties. Now they laid in shreds on the floor. "I could just eat you up." The knife ran affectionately over my hair.

"Too bad your vegan, huh?" I taunted, raising my arms above my head to give him the best possible view of his work. His pants were in the way, so I fixed that. Now we were both naked, and holy shit was he a sight for sore eyes! I almost drooled.

"Not today," he growled, gripping my chin. He kissed me red hot, passion in the highest form I'd ever experienced. Passion mixed with pleasure and a spoonful of pain. I wasn't a virgin, not even close, but I had never had _clown sex_ before. _Wow, what I had been missing!_ I took advantage while he was touching me and stole his knife. I waved it smugly and pressed it to his neck, making sure to wound him, at least a little. I liked the view _way_ too much. I liked the illusion of _control._ I liked _all_ of this and I couldn't care less about how sick it was. Actually, it being so sick made it that much more _satisfying._ I nicked his arm with the blade and my index finger swirled the blood around in a circle of satisfaction. His beautiful skin made an excellent canvas. PROPERTY OF HARLEY. I wrote on the sensitive space of his naked lower belly. His thumb played with my bottom lip. I bit it. Hard. There was no talking as we made the Beast with Two Backs, but plenty of _other noises._ I got the message. I was _his._

 _A/N: Sorry about the wait on this one. In the dream sequence, A bit of Joker's dialogue about lunacy is taken from a DC comic, specifically The Killing Joke._


	5. Chapter 5

The next day around noon I laid on my belly in _our_ bed, supporting myself with my elbows. Cartoons had just ended and now the news was on while a devoured bag of potato chips snuggled shamelessly up to my side. _Only one body unaccounted for in Arkham Massacre. Where is Dr. Harleen Quinzel?_ Right here. _Batman saves hostages from elaborate death-puzzle from the Riddler._ Yawn. "What would Gotham ever _do_ without The World's _Greatest_ detective?" I asked dryly, drenched in sarcasm while rolling my eyes in annoyance. I rolled over on my back and licked my salty lips and fingertips clean. I bet Mistah J was hungry, from what I could tell he hadn't eaten breakfast. I hadn't either, hence my high-sodium snack.

My only clothing attire choice was my outfit from yesterday. I picked the shirt up and sniffed it. Gunpowder, sweat and a little perfume. Ew. I wandered into the narrow walk-in closet and grabbed a random shirt of J's. It was huge on me and dropped to about my mid-thigh. This would work, but not forever. Cracking open the door I cautiously looked to the left, then the right. It didn't seem like anyone was out here. I'm not sure who I was expecting to see.

I hummed on my way downstairs and into the kitchen. The house wasn't big, three bedrooms and an office, maybe, which is where he was right now. It took me a minute to find it due to multiple wrong turns. One thing all of the rooms had in common was they were only furnished with items necessary to be kept comfortable, but only temporarily. When I finally found it I noticed the room was a light shade of brown. Digging through the fridge I pursed my lips. Throwing meals together out of random items was a specialty of mine. With what was available I could make… hot ham and cheese sandwiches.

The pan heated up and I mindlessly prepared the food to be cooked. My mind was stuck on last night. It was friggin _perfect!_ When the Joker had sex, it was very animalistic. All of his movements were intense and only for his own pleasure. But I had _no_ trouble getting off. Actually, come to think of it I think I got off _before_ he did. Goosebumps broke out across my skin as I remembered watching his chest muscles flex and sweat as he pounded me into the mattress on loop. I could barely breathe it was so hot. I bit my lip while curling a strand of my hair and gripping the hem of J's shirt. I wanted to do it again and again. And like a million and 7 _more_ times. Plus 10. Plus infinity. My legs clamped together tightly as I realized my new reality: I could fuck him _whenever_ I _wanted_ to! We even _cuddled_ after! Well, I cuddled him and he didn't stop me. I had no complaints and slept without dream (or nightmare). I felt more rested than I had in _way_ too long. What did I have to fear or stress about when I slept next to the _Clown Prince of Crime?_

"Hey, lady w-" A deep voice startled me out of my thoughts and without thinking I grabbed the hot pan from the stove, hurling it at one of the two men now present. _"ARRGGH!"_ He yelled, grabbing his face.

 _"Bull's eye! 100 points!"_ I cheered, jumping and clapping. "Should I go for 200? I have another pan!"

The second raised his hands in surrender. "We ain't here to _hurt_ ya, lady, we just came to grab a bite to eat. The help gotta eat too!" The men were dirty, but not distractingly so. The help? Oh, Joker's goons.

I chuckled as I realized my overreaction. "Whoops, sorry! Here!" I grabbed a small towel and filled it with ice. But as I saw the man's face, it would certainly take more than one. I did a pretty good job. I bent over to grab the pan from the floor. "Never, _ever,_ sneak up on me. Got it?" I said seriously, pointing the pan at them both individually and raising my brows. They nodded. "Good, lemme make it up to ya and cook you lunch." I offered with a grin, heading back to the stove. Both men looked at me like a spoke another language. "Eesh, been a while since anyone's cooked?" I asked.

"Yeah, we just eat whatever we find cold." The shorter one (around 6 ft!) replied. I grimaced, sticking my tongue out in distaste.

"Well it's a good thing I'm here! Harley Quinn, pleased to meetcha." I stuck out my hand to them both. The taller Burned Face Man stuck his hand out. On second thought the burn wasn't that bad, but the design left behind made him look cool and tough. He'd have to thank me for that. Now they knew better.

"Henry." He introduced.

"Mike." The other followed suit. We chatted idly while they waited for their food and the smell of toasting bread filled the kitchen. A few times the boy's stomachs growled pretty loudly. A few _other_ times I caught them staring at my ass. I learned that Henry had known Mistah J back in Blackgate and when he busted out, J got him out too. He'd been a leading part of his crew ever since. Mikey had lost his family a year or so ago and found himself with the opportunity to serve under the Joker. And why wouldn't he take it? Apparently the pay was good. I set two steaming plates in front of them with two sandwiches each. Cheese slowly melted down the sides.

"Well nice talking to you boys, I'm gonna go eat with J." I said, collecting two grape sodas from the fridge. The two men looked at one another.

"Be careful," Mikey mumbled said through a cheesy bite. "He doesn't like to be disturbed while he works."

"I appreciate the warning." I said as I continued up the stairs, humming Queen as I made my way to the office. Balancing both his plate and mine as well as both sodas (talk about _talent!_ ), I opened the door and tapped on the wall alerting him to my presence. Leaning against the door frame I watched him hunch over a few papers, but much more of them were in crumpled balls near the trash can. Hearing my intrusion he looked up, an angry expression on his face.

 _"I thought I told you bozos to-"_ he boomed, pausing when he saw me and smiled big. "Well, good morning, _Pooh."_ He cooed. His eyes ran over me from head to toe then only focused on the food.

"Good _afternoon,_ Puddin'." I grinned in mild correction. Sashaying to his desk I turned his chair toward me and sat on his lap, pressing my starving lips to his. Licking his bottom lip I offered him the sandwiches. I put extra meat on his, with his frame it didn't look like he ate often. _"Hungry?"_ I asked in a flirty deliberate double entendre. He took the plate and stacked his papers neatly into one pile, pushing me away with his free hand. With an _oof_ I hit the floor. I got up, rubbing my sore butt gently. Now that a corner of space on the desk was free I perched myself on it and set my own plate in my lap, taking a massive bite. Yum, I'd been so _hungry._ "Whatcha working on?" I asked curiously. My legs swung back and forth off of the edge. I wiped my greasy fingers clean before touching one of his blueprints. It was a loose design for an acid-squirting flower.

"Oh, you know, the defeat of the bat through _comedy_ and whatnot." He replied, taking his own bite. I waited eagerly to see if the food passed the test. He didn't comment further and stuffed another corner into his mouth. That was good enough for me.

"Can I go on the next score?" I asked. "Pretty please?" I added, batting my lashes. He scoffed.

"No. You'd be recognized immediately and ruin everything." He immediately dismissed. I pouted.

"What if I wore a disguise?" I pressed. He put down his sandwich to close his eyes and rub his temples in frustration. "Wouldn't I be so much more _useful_ as a weapon?" I persuaded, knowing this would appeal to him. He opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. Suddenly his face brightened.

"As a matter of fact, that might just work." His tone was dark. I squealed and raised my soda to his in a toast.

The club was dimly lit, crowded and loud. Perfect for the type of meeting that would be happening. No one would pay any attention to the men behind the beaded curtain. I had tried to go in with them, but J stopped me. "Go have a drink. Enjoy yourself, I'll handle this. If you see the signal, get ready to shoot." He growled. He wore a dark red button down under a thick, expensive looking textured purple jacket. He also had plenty of thick gold chains and rings. God he was hot. And he was _mine._ How could I be so lucky? I sneakily wiped the side of my mouth to make sure I wasn't drooling. Nodding, I pulled him against me, kissing him deeply but briefly. A little something to remember me by.

"Muah! Don't worry, Mistah J, if he tries anything funny I'll blow his head off." I promised. With a sly giggle I grabbed his hand and ran it along the outside of my borrowed knee length, royal blue colored dress where under a thick garter I stashed a handgun. Next I guided his hand to my rib cage where under my bra band I had a knife and a small canister of Joker Toxin.

"What a good, _good_ girl you are," He growled with an approving grin, squeezing my waist. I felt a huge sense of satisfaction at pleasing him. "Just wait for the signal." He repeated, pointing his index finger at my face in light warning. His finger ran down my nose and down my lips, resting at my chin. He gave me a nod and without another word left my side. I watched him go with a dreamy sigh. My fingers traced the place he had touched my lips. Geez, how could a girl _not_ fall for someone like him? "I love you!" I called. He stopped, but didn't turn to face me. Then he shook his head and kept walking.

A short boy behind the bar caught my attention. A drink _did_ sound refreshing. The music thumped unnecessarily loud. I could feel it in my chest, but somehow it added to the dark atmosphere instead of taking away from it. Completed it in a way. "What can I get for you?" He asked with a professional grin. His eyes, however, said 'I'd rather be doing literally _anything_ else'. I laughed quietly to myself and twirled some of the dark wig hair around my finger.

"Hmm... Surprise me." I grinned. Everyone was still looking for Harleen. I don't know why, _I_ sure wasn't looking for her. I donned a wavy black wig and dark red lips. As I waited, a very pretty redhead sat next to me. She nodded to the bartender.

"Scotch on the rocks, please." She requested with the smoothest of voices. Her dress was black and tight, and I couldn't help but notice her figure. I made a face at her selection.

"Rough day?" I guessed. When she turned to smirk at me I took the time to study her. Her skin was pale with a warm glow and she had brilliant emerald green eyes. Large, loose curls fell to her back and her full lips were brick red, while her eyes were dark and smokey, making the green and pink stand out. She was gorgeous.

"The worst." The stranger admitted with a sigh. "I was let go today."

I pouted in sympathy. "What happened?" The bartender slid me my drink. A margarita. "Thanks, sweetie!" I grinned then turned back to the redhead with the same sympathetic look. He slid her the scotch shortly after and I sipped at my drink. She took a moment to take a sip as well before answering. A perfect lady.

"I work, well, work _ed,"_ Her face scrunched in anger. "at Wayne Enterprises. I'm a scientist who makes new medicines to be tested and I was working on a new pheromone Mr. Wayne wasn't too happy about." At this point she turned her torso to look at me full on. We had to speak louder than if we were at a cafe or something, we practically screamed to hear each other.

"What kind of pheromone?" I grinned in interest, though I didn't know jack about sciency stuff like pheromones. I glanced toward where Puddin' was having his meeting. No sign of trouble.

"A very... Potent one." She started. Red licked a drop of spilled liquor from her lips and I couldn't help but watch. She was utterly alluring. "One that would give me a certain... Influence over others." She said slowly, as if she wasn't sure how to put it. Absentmindedly her manicured finger circled around the rim of her glass.

"Like mind control? _Cool!"_ I complimented. She genuinely smiled at me and I smiled back. "Who _wouldn't_ want that?" I asked, picturing all the things I could do with something like that. I could make Batman sit in a wood chipper! Ah, what a lovely thought. I sighed in content.

"That's what I was thinking!" Her eyes grew wide as she put emphasis on her words. Already tipsy. Whatta lightweight. "He had the total opposite reaction. I still have my research, at least. It's just going to take me a _lot_ longer to perfect without access to all of that state of the art technology. Sorry, I'm rambling." She shook her head in embarrassment and her hair followed.

"That doesn't surprise me." I rolled my eyes. "Bruce is so…" I struggled to find the right word. Not boring… Uptight didn't quite fit either, we had sex on a pool floaty in the middle of the afternoon for God's sake. "Straight edge." I decided.

"Oh, you know Bruce?" Red's perfect brows rose. "Small world."

"He gave me a tour once or twice. Harley Quinn, pleased to meetcha!" I extended my hand in excitement. Somehow the new name felt natural as it rolled off my tongue. I liked that she rambled because I did too. Maybe we could be friends.

"Pamela Isley." She reciprocated my handshake with a firm grip. I had some more of my margarita and tried to finish it in one sip. A mini challenge for myself. So close! With another half sip the rest was gone and I felt the liquor hit my system. It made the music less annoying. I bobbed my head and moved my shoulders to the beat.

"Hey, Red, wanna dance?" I asked. Mistah J had _specifically said_ to have a good time and he didn't have to tell me twice. With a tilt of her head and a finishing gulp of her scotch, she nodded.

"Okay." She grabbed my hand and pulled me behind her. The song that was on was sultry, yet very electronic. We watched each other as we danced. The way her body moved was so... attractive. She wasn't dancing to impress anyone or show off... She was just dancing. At points she even looked silly, which made me laugh and try to out do her. Gradually we moved closer, like magnets and I could now see the multihued emerald/jade of her eyes easily. We were touching now. Not in a vulgar sense but definitely a flirtatious one. Too bad J wasn't watching, I'd love to give him a show. Her hands ran over my hips and mine rested lightly on her shoulders. Her hand lowered to cover my gun and her brows lifted. I raised my finger to my lips. "Shhh..." I winked. Men started to whistle at us but we paid them no attention.

 _"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!"_ A man yelled while simultaneously coughing, running from behind the curtain. Time to go.

"Nice meeting you Pammy, gotta go! And my advice? Run…" I turned her to the left. "That way!" I yelled, pushing her and grabbing my mini can of toxin, tossing it deep to the right, into the herd of people. I ran through the crowd and lifted my dress to grab my gun. When it looked like I had a clear shot at the guy I fired. Missed. Damn! I tried again. Headshot. "50 points!" I yelled in victory. It would have been worth more if it had been cooler. Fifty seemed fair. The people had a different reaction. Everyone screamed and ran and bumped into me so hard my wig fell off. The rest started to hysterically laugh and cackle. The drug was starting to work and would soon spread. I paid almost no attention to the wig. Running behind the curtain I saw the room was now empty. Where the hell was J, and Mike? Mike was the head honcho of the goons. I shoved my way angrily outside. Everyone was running away, scattering like bugs in every direction. "RUN! He's been shot!" And "She's got a gun!" Could be heard amongst various other things. A loud screech of tires made my head turn sharply to the left.

His purple Lamborghini sped down the road, away from the club. No doubt the Gotham police would be here soon, and maybe even the bat. He left me! That pasty son of a bitch left me here! I was seeing red. What the hell was I supposed to do now? A man lifted his leg to get onto his motorcycle and I pushed him off of it with enough strength to knock him over. "Excuse me." I said politely as I climbed on. The dress and heels made it more difficult than it should have been so I kicked the heels off. Much better!

"What the fuck are you doing, bitch?!" He asked in outrage. I backed up the motorcycle and revved the engine, shooting forward running over his lumpy body as I went. A gurgled choking noise occurred.

"Asshole," I muttered, talking both about Mistah J and that guy. I sped off after the Lamborghini and weaved in and out of traffic causing quite a few honks and screeches of tires. Just obstacles. I could now clearly see the smile on the back of the vehicle. We were under the bridge and I got closer and closer until I could see him through the driver's window. But he turned, making eye contact then blocking his face as he sped away from me. I honked like a madwoman as my blonde locks flew behind me in a sort of tornado shape. Curling the handle as far back as it would go I passed him, getting in front of him. Making sure I was plenty in front of him my anger moved my body for me. I took a final look at his car, then very precisely moved my left foot, tilting the bike to the ground holding on to the other handle with both hands so I wouldn't fall. Sparks flew as the metal scraped against the road and I nearly lurched forward and onto the pavement.

When I came to a stop I walked toward his car, stopping and facing him head on. He would either stop or kill me. For a second I was certain it would be the latter. Somehow I wasn't afraid. At the last second I heard the loud screech of the tires. Purple tire smoke filled the air, a feature he was particularly proud of. I had to admit, it added ambiance. I stomped to the hood of the car and slammed my fists down. _"Get out of the car you alabaster prick!"_ I roared. The Joker hit his head against the glass of the window in frustration but didn't get out. Mike got out of the car and started to walk over to me.

"Harley, calm down, everything's okay. You made it out-" I put a bullet through his head and pointed the gun at the Joker. Fifty points.

"I said _get out of the car."_ I growled. He obliged and walked up to me slowly, not in fear just taking his time. "You're _not leaving me!"_ My eyes were watering as the weight of his actions hit me.

"You," He chuckled, shaking his head. "are a real pain in the ass." he stopped a foot in front of me.

"Everything you have _ever_ said. Every test, _every_ initiation I have proved I love you just accept it!" I said in frustration as he approached me with an annoyed, disbelieved squinty expression. His reaction in the club confirmed that was the problem.

"Got it, got it, got it, got it, got it." He interrupted with a disgusted grimace. "I am not someone who is _'loved'."_ His fingers quoted. "I am an idea." He clapped in my face. An eighteen-wheeler pulled up behind us, honking. "A _state of mind."_ He continued. His grill and rings glinted in the lights from the street lamps. He held my gaze and I swear I felt my heart breaking. "I execute _my_ will according to _my_ plan and you, _doctor,_ are not a part of my plan." He circled me. The driver continued honking, and I gently grabbed his face making him look at me.

"Just _let me in,"_ He turned out of my grip which pushed a certain part of me into survival mode. He had changed me. Made me different. I felt like I couldn't live without him. I didn't want to. "I promise- Just _let me in_ , I promise I won't _hurt_ you!" I begged. There blared that maddening horn again. He fixed his green locks and faced me with an amused grin.

"A promise? _Promise?"_ He laughed.

"Hey Dickwad!" A stout, angry trucker yelled as he stormed up to us, shotgun in hand. "Mind screaming at your bitch somewhere else?" I grabbed the gun out of J's coat pocket and pointed it at the man's face, squeezing the trigger firmly. With the loud, reverberating boom of the bullet a couple tears fell from my eyes. Not from killing someone, but from J's words.

"I was gonna say I wouldn't do that if I were youuu," He turned back to me as I watched the man's carcass hit the ground. I kept my arm extended and pushed the gun to _his_ head now. I felt dangerous, not to be fucked with. "Don't do it. I'll be your friend!" He mocked with a bigger grin than before, raising his hands in faux surrender. "Ooh, you wanna kill me?" His eyes lit up. "Do it. Do it do it _do. it!"_ His words came quickly and his fingers curled towards himself as he said it. "End me Harley, all it would take is a little pull of your finger." His eyes closed pleasantly and he grinned. "I'm _waiting."_

My finger stilled. "A _heart_ scares you but a _gun_ doesn't?" I asked, doing my best to keep the floodgates closed.

He growled harshly in response, making full eye contact with me. "DO IT!" He demanded, panting. I didn't move. Quickly he snatched the gun from my hands. "Or if you don't have the guts..." He laughed, holding it to his temple. My eyes widened in panic.

"Don't." I protested strongly.

"But why ever not, dear?" He asked, pulling the hammer back. He put it back down and looked at me with disbelief. "God, if you weren't so _crazy,_ I'd think you were _insane."_ He exclaimed. "Go. Away." Another test. It had to be.

"No." I said eerily calm. "I. Love. You." I said, trying to get the words through his head. "I'll do anything for you. Anything." I said honestly. "Don't run from me. I'll find you, I promise." My words rang with truth. "Put me to good use, Puddin'." I pulled his face back to mine, kissing him with every ounce of love and determination I had.

Instead of an answer I got backhanded, falling hard against the concrete. I scraped my knee, but didn't pay it any attention. My hand cradled my cheek and looked up at him in confusion and hurt. Not the physical kind.

"Puddin', I-" I started.

"See what your actions cause?" He waltzed over and bent to pick up Mike's extra gun and tucked it in the waistband of his pants while he again smoothed his slightly disheveled green locks. Walking over to me he held out his hand. I took his hand and sniffled as I nodded mutely. "And then you shot _Mike."_ He reminded me. My face dropped. My dress had ripped and he took his jacket off and wrapped it around my shoulders. He chuckled, I'm not sure what at, but I reached up on my tiptoes, still barefoot and kissed him softly. I didn't know what else to do.

"I'm really, really sorry Mistah J. At least we got the job done, right?" I tried.

"Right, kiddo." He laughed. Opening my door he waited until I stepped over Mike's fresh body and sat down then shut it behind me. "Don't get any blood in the car." He got in and tied a blindfold over my eyes. "You like _surprises_ , don't you?" He asked with a curious glint in his tone. A surprise?

"I sure do!" I grinned in excitement as the car silently purred to life. The drive was sort of long, but I didn't ask any questions. I was just happy to be in his good graces again. Eventually the engine silenced and again he opened the door for me. Grabbing my hand he helped me out and lead me around.

"You'll get a kick out of this. I know I will." He said with amusement and a touch of darkness. I heard a heavy metal door open and we climbed a lot (A loooooot) of stairs. The floor felt gross on my feet and a strong scent burned my nose and gave me a headache. We had traveled at least three stories and I took a moment to catch my breath. I felt a weird sort of high from the fumes that was starting to overwhelm my senses and fatigue me. It was so warm I didn't need his jacket anymore, but I kept it on anyway. His fingers deftly untied the fabric from my eyes and I knew where we were immediately.

"Ace Chemical." I said quietly to myself. We were on a platform above the vats of bright, bubbling poison, somewhere a manager might visit to check on things. There were several of the large vats holding an alarmingly green-hued liquid that had steam coming off of it.

"I was born here," he stated in a distracted tone, walking to the edge and taking a deep inhale. "Smells wonderful, don't you think?" He asked. I couldn't agree. The scent was far too strong.

"Batman just left you in there?" I asked incredulously. The word around town was that Batman didn't kill anyone. However, not preventing a death is not the same thing as killing someone. He didn't answer the question and turned to me, eyes alight with small hues of jade from the chemicals.

"Question," he said, stepping the slightest bit closer to me. "Would you die for me?" He asked. The color of his eyes right now was almost hypnotizing. What a dumb question.

"Yes." I answered simply. Life as Harleen... From what I remember wasn't too great. It just wasn't _satisfying._ Life with him was an adventure.

"That's too easy." He decided. "Would you..." He paused as he thought about how to phrase it. "Would you _live_ for me?"

Isn't that kind of what was happening right now? "Yes." I said again, with a bit more conviction.

That warning finger again, right in front of my nose. "Careful." He said slowly. "Do not say this oath _thoughtlessly."_

"I'd never." I said seriously.

"Desire becomes _surrender,_ surrender becomes _power."_ His finger dragged down my lower lip. "Do you want this?" He murmured, resting his fingers under my chin, holding it up.

"I do." I felt like we were getting married and exchanging our vows. Maybe this was exactly that for us. Did that make me the Clown _Princess_ of Crime now?

"Say it. _Say it."_ His voice dropped to a low whisper. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty-"

"Please." It came out needy, and completely mesmerized. That's exactly how I felt right then. I wanted him. All of him. His mind, his body, his soul. I wanted to forever be his harlequin.

A beautiful smile brightened his face. "God, you're so... _Good."_ He complimented for the second time tonight. I swelled inside. I _craved_ his approval. _Starved_ for it. I walked up to the edge and leaned over so far my adrenaline began to flow. I dropped the jacket from my shoulders and it hit the floor with a mute puff. I could never be enough for him the way I was now, I knew that. He knew it. I had to be like him. What I had to do was obvious. I turned to face him and he watched me with absolute interest. The true last test.

He opened his arms to me, as if to hug me. My arms raised as well, but I stepped backward instead, feeling the floor drop out from under me as I fell. My breath hitched in my throat, I wasn't the biggest fan of heights. The last thing I saw before I went under was him looking over the edge at me. I smiled. Until I hit the chemicals.

The first thing I felt was the _heat._ It burned my skin and I gasped from the pain only to end up releasing some of my oxygen, scorching my mouth and taste buds. I coughed, rejecting the taste thrashing my arms and legs wildly. My whole body was on fire and I flailed for my life trying to get above, to air. But I couldn't swim. I could've been heading toward the right for all I knew. All of the struggling was only wearing me out. Then there was the chemical sting and burn. My scalp felt scorched as did every spare inch of my skin. And I felt it _all._ I noticed it on the back of my neck, my armpits, in between my toes and fingers, my face, my limbs. Nowhere was safe, I was submerged. The hot liquid filled my ears and nose and I sort of just stopped fighting after a minute. I was going to die. I knew it. So I had kept my word. I was dying for him. In a last ditch effort I raised my arm, hoping to feel the liquid break around me. I'm not sure how long I was under. It felt like a lifetime. I found nothing and my eyes opened. Before I shut them from the extreme burn I saw a flurry of bubbles and a human-shaped form reaching toward me. An angel! Flashing images ran rapidly behind my lids. My first gymnastics meet. My first date. Graduation day. My first patient, Tommy Huges. My childhood dog Digby. Then I passed out.

I felt pressure on my lips and it brought me out of the darkness like flipping a switch. I looked at the Angel that had saved me. Of _course_ it was him. I noticed swirls of red and blue around us and that our clothes were slowly disintegrating and losing color. The Joker laughed triumphantly and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard in my entire life. His shirt hung in tatters over his shoulders. I reached for him, no longer noticing the harsh scent, holding his face to mine and kissing him. He laughed against my lips, which made me start laughing too. I was alive! He had literally _saved my life._ I felt so doped up on endorphins I could sing.

"Look at you," he muttered in appreciation.

"I feel like a pile of ash." I complained. Nothing felt the same. I don't just mean outwardly. Inside me nothing was the same, yet everything was the same. My outlook was different. I'd been electrocuted, almost hit by a car, chemically burned, basically drowned… and I was smiling. I already didn't fear death much, but now I felt invincible.

"Let's go home, dear." He said fondly, helping me out of the vat. I saw the white skin of my leg and it dumbly shocked me. We were two sides of the same coin now. I held his hand all the way to the car. I felt so special. No one else in the entire world was like my Mistah J except for me. A true pair.

A/N: Happy holidays! Obviously big chunks of this chapter are from the movie, pls don't sue me, I'm too broke to pay you.


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